Before They Were Tallest
by EchidnaHazard
Summary: This story is based before Red and Purple were Tallest...and during Miyuki's reign.
1. Default Chapter

It echoed.  
  
That was a reoccurring thought in Red's mind as he crept through the hallways of the spaceship that was Almighty Tallest Miyuki's personal interstellar vessel, 'the Massive'. It echoed. Every footstep, no matter how cautious, sent up waves of sound that returned in discord to his antennae's senses.  
  
He felt thoroughly naughty, sneaking aboard the Massive, but in a way, that was the Tallest's fault more than his own for not stationing guards around the outside.  
  
He turned to his reluctant ally, "Come on. What are you afraid of?"  
  
"Execution." Purple mumbled, "Red, we really shouldn't be here. You know we're not allowed."  
  
Red's antennae twitched in annoyance, "Will you relax?" he wanted to add his thoughts of the lack of security being at fault, but he knew that aloud, it would sound feeble.  
  
So instead he took off down the hallway, forcing Purple to break into a run as well, to keep up, and laughed, "This place is so big! Can you believe it? They could keep you in space for ten solar turns with this! It's like..." he paused, "Like..."  
  
"A mobile spaceship." Purple suggested helpfully, "The Massive was designed to be a battleship with space craft capabilities."  
  
But Red had already lost interest in the conversation and was heading into the main room, his eyes bulging wider as he took everything in. He made little approving noises in his throat as he reached out to touch a panel, or finger the fabric of a chair, and finally he stopped his inspection, looking at the main feature of the command room-a gigantic viewscreen.  
  
"Can you imagine playing 'Galaga; Return of the Invader' on that?" he breathed in awe.  
  
"Mm-hmm. You could see every pixel. Red, please...please can we get out of here now?" Purple was practically begging, clasping his hands together, "They'll punish us so badly if we get caught."  
  
"That's part of the fun." Red turned to look at his companion, his eyes sparkling merrily, "Just forget for a few seconds about being in trouble. Think about if this was all yours, if YOU were the Tallest." He pointed to a cluster of beanbag chairs in the corner, "You're lounging there, watching your people work for you, to further the ends of the Irken Empire. You're feeling thirsty. What do you do?"  
  
Purple shifted nervously, "I don't know. Get up and-"  
  
"No! You clap your hands and say, 'Soldier! Get me a drink!' and he rushes off and fetches you whatever you want. You don't have to get up...and it would work the same way if you were hungry." Red looked eagerly at Purple for his reaction.  
  
"But then I'd get fat." Purple frowned.  
  
"You, get fat? With your metabolism? Yeah, and little Zim will become Tallest." Red brushed his hand back across his Irken uniform, smiling with boyish enthusiasm at his companion, "Listen to me, all the work we've done will pay off someday. We measure our height in feet, not inches. Feet! We could be the Tallest, if our growth keeps up at this rate."  
  
Red dashed across the room, jumping into one of the command chairs, and leaned back. "Open fire on the planet, helmsman. The Irken forces will not show any mercy." He imitated Almighty Tallest Miyuki almost flawlessly, sending Purple into a fit of laughter, despite himself.  
  
After a few seconds, the violet eyed Irken was grave again, staring at him, "And what would you do if you had all this power at your fingertips?"  
  
"If? There is no if, there is only when, my friend." Red stood, his own eyes narrowed and serious, "We had the genetic luck of the draw. We towered over our peers, even before we started actively trying to become tall. Trust me, it'll happen. And so, when it does, I'm going to finish up the job that Almighty Miyuki has started. I'm going to run Irk like it should be run. The universe will be ours, then, as it should be." He gestured to the chair next to him, then patted it as a signal to come try it.  
  
Purple sighed, giving in, and approached, "Red, even if we got taller than Almighty Miyuki, we'd be the youngest Tallest in recorded history. Are you sure they'd accept us?"  
  
"They'd have to accept us." Red bared his rows of teeth, open challenge, "Accept me, at least."  
  
The other Irken smiled, sitting in the chair and trying not to be too open about gazing at the soldier he had come to admire so much. Red didn't seem to like him in return, but that didn't bother him. He was content to bask in the light of Red's reflected glory.  
  
"You think you'd be taller than me." Purple finished the implied statement.  
  
"That's a given. But you can be my aide, and my successor."  
  
"I wouldn't want that." Purple whispered. He added hastily, when Red glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, "You know as well as I do that succession only happens when the current Tallest dies."  
  
"Why is that a problem?" Red wondered, clasping his hands together and relaxing back further into the chair.  
  
Purple stared at him helplessly. Red was cold sometimes, writing off Purple's feelings as only an attempt to get closer to a potential Tallest, and from there, to actually being one.  
  
"Think about it. You know I'm the current second-successor to Almighty Miyuki. If or when she dies, or I advance past her in height, even a precious centimeter, the whole succession will shift and you can follow me. Then I WILL be the successor to Almighty Spork, and you can be second..." Red trailed away. Purple was looking at him strangely.  
  
"I haven't registered for a formal measurement yet." Purple said uncomfortably, "And...you don't seem very much taller than me."  
  
Red stood up quickly, meeting Purple's eyes, "Get up! Now!"  
  
Purple reluctantly rose, gazing directly at Red, and inwardly grimaced. It figured. The other soldier was so self-centered that he didn't even bother to notice Purple's latest growth spurt.  
  
Red wordlessly kept his ruby eyes locked on Purple as if seeing him for the first time. A friend had just become a potential rival.  
  
"This can't be." he breathed, slowly, "You're the same height as me." 


	2. The Hive

Purple shifted uncomfortably, trying not to appear as though it was all that important, "I grew three inches in the past few weeks."  
  
Red didn't speak, but he made a low noise of anger in his throat, "I don't understand how you could betray me like this!!" He hissed, coming down hard on the word 'betray'.  
  
The other Irken winced, "Red, it wasn't intentional."  
  
"Oh, sure it wasn't." Red scoffed, sarcastically, "You were always jealous of my height. Always. So how did you do it, hmm? Did you take one of those new radical drugs they're selling on the black market?"  
  
Now Purple began to feel distinctly offended, "You know as well as I do that I didn't. That's punishable by death, you know."  
  
"A lot of things are, you dirty...cheater...!" Red hissed, shoving past him and exiting the main control room at a brisk jog. Purple raised one hand, opened his mouth to call after him, then shut it sadly.  
  
Red was as stubborn as he was tall, and he probably needed some alone time to calm down, that was all. At least, Purple hoped that was all. He didn't want anything bad to come out of the whole height thing, seeing as if he could, he would gladly give his height to Red.  
  
"Yeah...he just needs time to calm down." Purple mumbled. He glanced back at the command chair. It suddenly looked harsh and uninviting. The Irken soldier was quick to hasten from the room.  
  
Red wasn't aware of how late it had gotten. He walked down one of the synthesized streets of planet Irk, headed for his favorite place to be while away from work-related studies: the Hive. The Hive was a gigantic underground entertainment center. Admission fees were not cheap, but it was worth it to get away from stress or hassle. Red dropped thirty monies into the hand of the toll-collector and started down the stairs slowly, rubbing his temples with both hands. Having Purple turn on him like that...it was like petting a loving, trusted pet and having it bite your finger.  
  
He glanced up as the automated door whooshed open, gazing inside at the Hive's main room, and approached the arcade machines almost at once, digging in his pocket for more monies. He withdrew one, glancing at its engraved, scratched surface, and scowled. Tallest Miyuki's face was imprinted on the coin, another unneeded reminder of height and rank and all sorts of things he didn't want to think about. He shoved the coin viciously into the slot and looked up at the screen. Red punched the 'begin' button, plugged his Pak into the computer, and slipped a virtual reality visor over his eyes.  
  
"User settings?" the game inquired.  
  
"One player mode, no record. Simulate Irken soldier 'Purple.' Level thirteen. " Red told it grimly.  
  
The game began and the Irken started venting his frustration. Less than a minute into the match, he felt a hand tap his leg, and he made a small 'mmf!' noise of protest as the computerized Purple seized the moment of distraction and moved in to pummel him. Every hit thrown by the computer that got through hurt as much as a real one would and had the same effects, though his attacks against the computer had no painful side effects for the program.  
  
"Wait a minute!" He growled at whoever had distracted him, and resumed his attack, "Computer, decrease opponent skill level by two!"  
  
The computer obliged, and Purple backed away, letting Red recover. The Irken moved in for another concerted attack, swinging viciously at the current object of his anger, darting his eyes up every now and again to gauge the computer's remaining stamina at the top of the screen. It was yellow, flashing red, and signaling that computer player was faltering. He slammed a fist into the simulated enemy's chest, his face twisting into a malicious grin, "Do you like that, you traitor?!" he spat at the computer, swinging his other fist and bringing the CPU crashing to the ground.  
  
"10...9..." The computer referee began to count down, but Red overrode the program, "Get him back up!" He growled, glaring into the visor. Obligingly, the computer gave the CPU half his stamina back.  
  
The tap came again, more insistently, "Sir?"  
  
Red groaned, frustrated, and hissed, "Terminate opponent. Terminate program." Reluctantly, he pulled off the visor and unhooked his Pak, brushing back his antennae and feeling the cool air-conditioning of the Hive on his skin once more after the hot visor against his face. He glared down at the fairly short Irken who was standing by his side, waiting.  
  
"What do you want?" he demanded.  
  
"I just noticed that...you seemed pretty good at that game, but there's someone who says he could beat anyone with ease. And I was wondering if you wanted to face off with him. I'd fund it. The guys have been taking bets." The Irken pointed to a rough bunch of light-green skinned Irkens hanging out by the bar of the Hive, most of them with various battle-scars adorning their faces. They caught Red looking and began to murmur, excitedly, sensing the impending battle.  
  
"A real opponent?" Red asked, pondering. For real fights it could get a bit difficult, he couldn't ask the computer to decrease their skill levels, and sometimes scuffles ended in broken bones or internal Squeedly Spooch bleeding, which was viewed as improper conduct, even though it usually happened only by accident. The game itself was huge, with a five by seven- foot flatscreen between player one and player two's control boards that would display the fight for the others to see it.  
  
"If you win, the prize is fifty monies." Prompted the Irken.  
  
Red considered it for a moment more, then nodded briskly. Fifty monies would pay for his entry fee, and he could spend the rest on the other various games.  
  
The Irken ran back to the group of thugs, and conversation passed between them, along with the exchange of several monies.  
  
Red didn't so much mind the profit off the fight; he was aching to hurt something, and the computer simulation hadn't really been working. He needed someone to pound on.  
  
"We proudly introduce,"  
  
Someone to pummel.  
  
"The challenger,"  
  
Someone he really hated who he could annihilate without guilt.  
  
"With an impressive tradition of seven straight wins against the computer simulation Tyke Mison,"  
  
Someone like...  
  
"--Zim!"  
  
Red's eyes narrowed and a leer replaced his annoyed expression as his 'challenger' stepped up to player two's station. Little Zim blinked up at him, his face a confident expression that was rapidly fading.  
  
Zim smiled uneasily, then plugged his Pak into his slot and tilted the visor down to cover his eyes.  
  
"State your name." The computer inquired.  
  
"I am Invader Tallest Ruler Zim!" Zim announced his screenname proudly.  
  
"Name identified. User Invader Tallest Rule", The computer cut off the name, as it was apt to do when a User's name was too wordy, "--Has defeated simulation Tyke Mison seven times consecutively over the course of two months...on level one. User Invader Tallest Rule has lost nineteen matches to varying opponents on levels one to seven." The computer replied, and then it asked Red to state his name, who was re-hooking himself into his side.  
  
"Mr. Wonderful." Red responded neutrally, adjusting his visor.  
  
"Name identified. User Mr. Wonderful has defeated fifty-nine computer simulations over the course of three years, the earliest being labeled Irken school-bully Sork file, the latest being labeled That Traitor Irken Purple file, on levels ranging from seven to twenty-five. User Mr. Wonderful has lost five matches, at levels ranging from seventeen to twenty. Estimated odds of User Mr. Wonderful having partial or complete victory over User Invader Tallest Rule are one to seventeen hundred. Please finish placing your bets, observers."  
  
Zim gulped.  
  
"Are you ready?" The computer inquired. Red tapped the button on the panel and then stepped back into the fighting space, keeping his eyes directed into the blankness that was the visor's center.  
  
"User Mr. Wonderful, stand by."  
  
Zim tapped his own panel, walking forward as well, though with decidedly less swagger than his foe.  
  
"User Invader Tallest Rule, stand by."  
  
A large crowd had amassed in front of the two fighters, of all races, but predominately Irken, most of whom booed Zim and cheered Red, who raised one hand in acknowledgment, then shifted his weight to a battle stance.  
  
The computer's signal to begin went off, an annoying little microwave 'ding' noise. At once, Red lunged forward in his space, not especially paying any mind to the forcefield that kept him away from the other Irken, seeing only what was in his mind-view from the visor.  
  
On the flatscreen, a near-perfect replica of Red darted forward, throwing punches at Zim's replica. Zim grunted as the simulation did what it did best: simulated a fist hitting a stomach at high velocity. Red reared back for a moment, shifting his weight to spin-kick holo-Zim in the face.  
  
The real Zim recoiled, looking like he was being beaten up by an invisible entity (which he was), and staggered off a few steps, trying to get his bearings back.  
  
Red moved again, alternating fists and keeping Zim pinned against the edge of the fighting space, his back hitting against the forcefield that would not let him move any further. Zim groaned, holding up a hand to try to ward off the blows, but Red was as unstoppable now as a tsunami, continuing his relentless assault.  
  
"Mr. Wonder-Ful! Mr. Wonder-Ful! Mr. Wonder-Ful!" Cheered the crowd rhythmically, clapping and stomping, hooting and generally being distracting.  
  
Zim realized through a bleary red haze that he wasn't going to be able to win by being a punching bag, and staggered forward, putting up his fists bravely. Red slid back into his stance, jumping back several steps and laughing invitingly, and Zim charged at him.  
  
Red hadn't had as much experience with Zim as he probably should have had before he took on the little Irken. If he had known a few key points about Zim, including that the soldier was the most accident-prone that had probably ever been cloned; he might not have stood still for Zim.  
  
As it was, he did.  
  
And as it was, Zim tripped and went flying headlong into the virtual reality Red's stomach.  
  
The taller Irken gasped in stunned pain, slamming into the force field, and then crumpling to the ground on his side, effectively ripping the cord from the Pak out of the machine. At once the simulation terminated, but the damage had been done. Red curled up on the floor like a dying insect, clutching vainly at his Squeedly Spooch.  
  
"User Invader Tallest Rule has taken the victory despite estimated odds, as User Mr. Wonderful has been rendered unable to rise. Please exchange the appropriate amounts of monies, and have a nice day." The computer parroted.  
  
Zim stood in the center of his fighting square, swaying somewhat, but grinning like a loon. Triumphantly, he raised a balled fist into the air, ignoring Red's pained whines, and smiled at the crowd.  
  
Most of them looked extremely unhappy, having to shell out incredible amounts of monies, but they slowly, reluctantly clapped for him.  
  
The same Irken who had informed Red of the fight in the beginning hopped up to him and stood looking down, "Wow. That was kind of unlucky..." Without further comment, he approached Zim. "Here's your fifty monies! Congratulations at beating the old champ at Quasar Fighter!"  
  
"Well. Thank you." Red heard Zim say, from behind a wall of agony through which words had a hard time penetrating. Red thought that if he curled up tightly enough, perhaps the anguish sweeping his whole chest area might abate somewhat.  
  
The crowd dispersed, and after about ten or so minutes, the pain had decreased enough so that Red didn't feel he had to bite through his tongue to keep from screaming. He sat up slowly, both hands still wrapped around his abdominal area, and gazed at Zim.  
  
"I was wondering when you were going to come around." Zim said, neutrally, offering him a hand. Red didn't take it, standing by himself and glaring down at the little Irken.  
  
"Good match." Zim raised the hand slightly, waiting for a handshake. Red didn't take it. Zim let the hand linger in the air for a minute or so, in silence, then dropped it.  
  
"Ah... I'm sorry I won." He said, in exaggerated modesty.  
  
Red scowled. "You just lucked out, that was all." He turned and began to limp away, clutching at his wounded stomach and trying to appear dignified at the same time. Needless to say, it didn't work. Zim snorted, then burst out into helpless laughter from behind Red, who scowled even deeper.  
  
The injured Irken headed up the stairs out of the Hive, with more than his pride to recover. For some reason or another, he returned to his little domicile, swung open the door, and found Purple sitting on the bed. He mentally kicked himself. Of course Purple was here; he was his roommate.  
  
"Hi..." Purple said, nervously.  
  
"Don't talk to me." Red growled, stalking over to his own bed, ignoring the shooting pains the arrogant strut caused, and began to take off his clothes. He could feel Purple trying to look everywhere but at him as he shrugged on his pajama bottoms, deciding to sleep without a shirt for that night, and then sat on the edge of his bed, facing the cracked, dirty wall.  
  
Silence reigned for a few minutes before Purple pointed out the obvious, "There's a big bruise on your back."  
  
"I know." Snapped Red. Right below the Pak, it would be. Zim had slammed into him with such force that it shoved him back and smashed him into the force field...so he would have to endure sleeping on the bruise rather than stressing his Squeedly Spooch again. Maybe it had even burst inside of him...he wouldn't discount it, with all the agony it was giving him.  
  
He felt Purple's hovering presence behind him and said nothing of it, glaring still at the wall. Purple's hands positioned themselves gently on his shoulders, unsure, but taking the little leap of faith.  
  
"Want to tell me what happened?" Purple inquired softly.  
  
"Not especially." Red snapped.  
  
Purple withdrew his hands.  
  
Red added, softly, "It was that...Zim."  
  
Purple sat on the edge of Red's bed, already in his own nightclothes, and put on his listening face.  
  
When Red was finished, the Irken let out a snort, and collapsed back against the pillow on his back, wincing at the pain it provoked. Purple looked sympathetic.  
  
"So between me and the Hive, you had a pretty bad day, huh." He said, gently.  
  
"That's about the height of it." Red muttered, "Speaking of height...Did you get formally measured?"  
  
"Yes." Purple stated it matter-of-factly, "Five feet, four inches, seven centimeters, nineteen point seven millimeters, five hundred micrometers."  
  
Red blinked, summoning his own memory to his aid, and then whispered, "Wait..."  
  
"I know. It's exactly your height." Purple chuckled, weakly, "They checked it five times. Then they tested me for any illegal substances."  
  
Red looked guilty for a second, "I...shouldn't have said that." He mumbled reluctantly, "I'm sorry."  
  
"It's okay." Purple smiled, "No harm done. And I expect you'll advance past me soon."  
  
Red sighed, "It wouldn't matter to me much if I didn't...with this wound I might not even be around to contend with you."  
  
"Don't even joke about it!" Purple exclaimed, "You'll be fine." He got off the bed, returning to his own.  
  
"Goodnight, Purple." Red said, quietly.  
  
"Goodnight, Red. I'll examine you more fully in the morning, and we can get you some medicine." Purple assured Red, "Computer, lights off."  
  
The lights in the room dimmed, then clicked off. Red reclined gingerly against the pillow, thinking hard. His fatigue swept forward, and the last thing he coherently thought was how beautiful Purple had looked leaning over him, his concerned face tempered by ...devotion...?  
  
Red slept. 


	3. The Night Excursion

Purple decided, after about an hour, that he couldn't sleep. His thoughts just kept chasing around and around in his head, all of them ever- consuming, continually repeating, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't seem to shut his brain off. Most of it was worry for Red, he had decided, but just knowing what it was didn't help defeat it.  
  
He looked at the green glowing digital numbers of the clock on his bookcase, blinking one-thirty two, over and over, and decided he had to be outside. In the cool air, away from the stuffy, hot blankets and crowded claustrophobic thoughts that threatened to bury him.  
  
He stood, silently redressed himself in his Irken soldier's uniform- skintight pink and red, with black gloves and boots, and then crossed to the door.  
  
"Where are you going?" Red's voice came from somewhere in the darkness. Purple froze guiltily. He had failed to take into account that he might be caught.  
  
"I...ah, I'm sorry, did I wake you?" He asked.  
  
"No." Came the reply. Then there was silence. Red seemed to want the answer to his own question.  
  
"I'm going out."  
  
"I'll go with you." Red offered. It was a sweet offer, but not serious in the least. Red hardly felt like he could get out of the bed, let alone keep pace with Purple on a little night-excursion.  
  
Purple could hear the undertone of simple courtesy, interpreted it correctly, and replied, "No, thanks. I'll be fine."  
  
Red made a little affirming noise in the back of his throat, and his bed creaked as he shifted weight somewhere in the gloom, "Be careful."  
  
The other Irken didn't answer, simply stepped out of the automatic door and sighed as it closed behind him. He tugged on one of the gloves, shifting his fingers more firmly inside it, and then took off down the hallway and through the main entry doors.  
  
Planet Irk was really beautiful at night, with soft, cool air and a view of the stars that was in actuality, quite rare. The smog must be thin to be able to see so much of the sky, in rich cobalt blue, and the shining glow of Irk's three moons, named for the three greatest Almighty Tallest; Yamino, Arpan, and Kleai. Yamino had put all of Irk's funding toward spaceflight, when the planet had become dangerously stressed of its resources, and had made the breakthrough in technology that had allowed that first tentative step out of their galaxy. Arpan in turn had conquered the rest of their galaxy, paving the way for other Irkens to set up colonies in his destructive wake. Kleai and her followers had ruled during the times of the gigantic space-confrontations, and her people had designed more than seventeen different battle-mechs and aerodynamic ships to wreak havoc on neighboring galaxies. Those three had been great, their achievements even greater, so that somehow they seemed larger than life. They seemed perfect, flawless. How could Purple or Red, normal class Irken soldiers, should they become Tallest, ever hope to compare?  
  
But they were not perfect, not really. Their war machines were oiled with Irken blood, their creations modified and perfected by those who came after, their navigators only poor recruited souls whom nobody would miss if they were ambushed by some other spacefaring race. They themselves leapfrogged off others' backs and without the nameless little ones, those moons would bear some other name. And then there were the countless enslaved species...  
  
Yamino was a blood red tonight, reflecting the light of their gas giant sun in a captivatingly beautiful way, and reflecting off onto Arpan and Kleai to make them light orangey in color. Purple returned his gaze to the technological wonder of Irk, tearing his eyes from Yamino. Up there, he knew, seventeen thousand Irkens manned continual observation and did other necessary jobs to protect Irk from attack by any invasion force.  
  
Voices rose from somewhere up ahead of him, and intrigued, Purple ventured closer. His boots stayed mercifully silent on the metal floors, no echo to carry them very far, and as he drew near, heard the voices in clarity.  
  
"The Almighty Tallest are nothing but a bunch of cowardly fools and tyrants!" Came an enraged Irken's voice, shocking Purple into complete stillness for a moment. He peered out from around a corner and looked into a wide alleyway. Standing on a platform assembled with boxes was a rough looking Irken with dark purple eyes and even darker mottled skin. Below the platform, dozens of countless, myriad alien species gathered, murmuring amongst one another as the Irken yelled loudly enough to wake the dead.  
  
"They send out my people to conquer yours on a whim!" Cried the Irken, "They are rich and powerful, and they get it all from leashing people like me and forcing us to whip people like you!"  
  
Purple blinked. This Irken's speech was frighteningly similar to what he himself had been thinking just moments before.  
  
"I call for change! I call for revolt! I call for the minority to rise up and defeat the tyrannical Irken dictators!"  
  
He calls for treason, Purple realized. He backed out of the alleyway slowly, his antennae flattening against the back of his head, but the Irken saw the motion and then saw him.  
  
"My friend!" The Irken hailed him. Purple's eyes widened, he slowly stepped out from behind the corner again and faced the traitor, "Approach me. You are an ally, to come to this assembly." Said the traitor.  
  
No, no I'm not, Purple wanted to scream, but he kept a fixed blank expression, walking slowly up to the platform. Wordlessly he climbed onto it and faced down the Irken. As soon as he got onto the boxes, it became plain his height was nearly double that of the Irken's.  
  
The traitor looked up at him, his own eyes wide and disbelieving, "Why...you're nearly a Tallest yourself!" He remarked, in a shocked tone.  
  
"I was just passing through..." Purple's voice trembled a little, and he cursed it in his mind, knowing how feeble the words sounded.  
  
"Of course. My friends," the Irken addressed his followers again, "If we had one like him in a position as the Tallest, we could better our lives! Your families would no longer be slaves, mine would not be barbarians! This is truly a godsend!"  
  
Purple looked disbelievingly on as the group of rebels cheered, and then the Irken rummaged in his Pak, withdrawing a little orange capsule that the taller Irken stared at with dread.  
  
With a pathetic smile, the Irken offered the capsule to him, "Here! This will make you taller, and then you can take control and destroy this evil slave-system!"  
  
The violet eyes of the taller Irken gazed down at the traitor, and he knew the faltering, puppy-dog look he saw there well. The roles had been switched; the traitor was he, and he was Red, cold as dry ice, capable of burning twice as painful.  
  
"I don't want your pathetic, illegal drugs, and I don't want your petty responsibilities, and I don't want to help you with your treasonous little overthrow, and people like you are why people like me aren't trusted!" He swung his hand and smacked the pill from the Irken, who backed up, unsure, "Freedom Fighter, do you call yourself? Here to jolt the system? This system could work for me, you arrogant little thing, this could make me powerful and rich and worth something..."  
  
A torrent of emotion seemed to have burst the floodgate of Purple's tightly controlled psyche, he had said 'no harm done', but now he wasn't so sure. He pushed the Irken away from himself, jumped down off the platform and shoved his way through the crowd, tearing free of the alleyway. His anger was almost a tangible thing; it left him weak and drained as he broke into a run down the street, desperate to get away from everyone and everything.  
  
Above him, Yamino still gleamed, reflected in puddles from the freak shower that this portion of Irk had received, but Purple paid it no heed, continuing on. He collided viciously and without warning with someone, and both fell back onto the floor. Purple's eyes flicked up, met eyes that were as blue as a boundless ocean, beautiful but deadly, gazing back at him with stunned surprise. Purple realized they were both drenched from head to toe, but Irk's rain wasn't harmful, in truth it wasn't even really water. It was mainly comprised of an elemental compound of two substances which, when alone, caused burns. But when they were together, as they were naturally, they used to fertilize the plants of Irk, and now only caused annoyance to its inhabitants.  
  
His eyes trailed down over the other Irken's form, noted that instead of a pink and red uniform, he was wearing a sapphire one to match his eyes. His antennae twitched, and he spoke in a rich, quiet voice, "Are you alright, little one?"  
  
Purple realized in horror that the only Irken on record with blue eyes was named Spork, and also, the second in succession to Miyuki bore that name: he had knocked down the Second Tallest.  
  
"I'm so very sorry!" he yelped, standing and reaching down to help the other up. Spork accepted his hand, standing as well, and then looked down at him.  
  
"You looked like you were fleeing a Cartian invasion." He remarked, "Was something wrong?"  
  
The smaller Irken shifted, and responded, "It was... ahh... one of those rebellion groups, my Second. I stumbled on them by accident and they tried to get me to take a growth pill so I could rule the Irkens the way they wanted them to be ruled." At the reminder, he glanced nervously behind him.  
  
Those glamorous eyes never changed expression, nor did the mouth, "I'll know to send out a security patrol around this area tomorrow, then." Spork said, in a cool voice, "Customary thanks for alerting the government to potential political unrest."  
  
Purple looked up at the Irken, and he couldn't help thinking that the Second Tallest had really gotten the luck of the genome. Not only was he the second tallest Irken of the entire measured race, but he was also a thing of beauty to look upon, with those sharp eyes and the long, flowing antennae that framed either side of a perfectly shaped head. Though his height was a marvel, it did not seem to adversely affect the way he held himself. He was the epitome of grace and complete physical control. And he had nearly a foot on Purple and Red both.  
  
"What's your name?" Spork inquired.  
  
"Purple, my Second," Purple bowed quickly, and somewhat clumsily, "At your command."  
  
"Perhaps not for much longer." Spork noted, in an amused voice, "You seem to be gaining on me quite a bit."  
  
"My Second honors me." Purple managed. He was having trouble believing that he was actually conversing with the Second Tallest.  
  
"Enough of 'my Second'." Spork said suddenly, "Anyone intimately acquainted enough with me to knock me over in the street, even by accident, deserves to have an informal chat with me. And you look like you've got something weighing on your mind...I know that look. I see it all the time in the mirror."  
  
Purple looked up at the sapphire uniformed Irken, and contemplated telling him what he felt like. He needed to tell someone, after all. That temper tantrum in the alleyway hadn't been like him at all. Was it simply leftover guilt from sneaking onto the brand-new Massive that was still partially under-construction, or was it something more? Something to do with Red...  
  
"It's about my height." He said reluctantly.  
  
Spork watched him with a thoughtful expression, "Mm. Go on."  
  
"I have a friend who's the same as me, down to the millimeter, and I'm afraid if I get taller than him it'll affect our friendship."  
  
"Being the unquestioned ruler of a planet and empire doesn't win you many friends." Spork agreed, "It's quiet at the top, and quieter the higher you go. But you have to ask yourself if the power, money and fame don't balance out a few occasional lonely weeks." His eyes glittered somewhat, with none of the warmth Red could display if he so chose, "If you want to live a simple life, then that's bad. The late Almighty Tallest Durcin only wanted to be left alone so she could work on her paintings, and she hated politics. Irk's economy was pretty bad during that time, and we didn't conquer any other species for two years until someone outgrew her."  
  
"But that is what I want! Simple. I want it to be like it always used to be between Red and I..." Purple trailed away, "We were good friends. Now I don't know if he's changed his outlook towards me."  
  
"Friends sometimes grow apart. Height as well as distance." Spork said wisely, "The higher up on the succession line you move, the fewer friends you have. Except for the bloodsuckers, but you probably want to avoid those." Spork gestured to him to follow, and then began to walk away. Purple hastened to keep up.  
  
The night air was a lot colder when he was soaked, but he didn't really mind, "And he got into a fight at the Hive and hurt himself. So I'm worried about him."  
  
"The Hive..." Spork chuckled, "Was it Quasar Fighter, by any chance?"  
  
Purple nodded, "How'd you know?"  
  
"That's about the only VR game there that people really get roughed up on, besides Alien Melee." Spork seemed distracted by something all of a sudden, "Hmm."  
  
"What?"  
  
Spork's face twisted into a grimace, "I don't know. Something's wrong. Come with me, it's not exactly a safe night to be out wandering: I'm going to go check in with my personal guard."  
  
He increased his speed a bit, Purple jogging along behind him, and after a few minutes of the new pace, stopped at the front of a huge, citadel-like building. The two Irken guards at the front saluted, "My Second." they said in unison, as he passed.  
  
He passed the double doors, entering the elevator, waited for just a second for Purple to dash in as well, and said, "Level ten."  
  
The elevator dinged, began to play mind-numbing music, and rumbled its way up to level ten. Spork managed to compose himself, brushing back his long antennae and controlling his breathing. Purple looked anxiously up at him.  
  
The doors opened and he stepped out after the Second Tallest. The group in the room turned to look at him, and suddenly there was a buzz of noise and excitement.  
  
"Second, where were you?! You could have been killed! Something terrible...great tragedy... please, hurry and..."  
  
Spork held up his hands, his chest still moving up and down somewhat as he caught his breath, and the room quieted. "What's going on here?"  
  
"One of the lower west housing developments has been destroyed."  
  
"Casualties?" He asked, all-business.  
  
"Unknown." A cringing Irken replied, "It happened not too long ago, Second."  
  
"Accidental or purposeful?" Spork's next question was spat angrily.  
  
"Zim was involved."  
  
"Accidental AND purposeful, then," Spork said, with grim humor, "Word to the wise, soldier," he turned to look at Purple, "Should you, by any chance, ascend to Tallest rank, make sure you keep that little menace away from your empire. He'll destroy it all."  
  
"Duly noted." Purple muttered, still a bit stunned.  
  
"Damage reports are coming in now." An Irken reported, glancing at a nearby screen set into the wall, "Fifty-five Irken deaths, seventy wounded, ten and a half missing."  
  
"Ten and a half?" Spork had the expression of someone finding Smeet guts in his soup, "Ugh. Zim will have to be dealt with this time. He's far too costly to us like this.... We'll assign him to some far away nebula."  
  
"Shouldn't he be punished?" Asked Purple, "More harshly, I mean?"  
  
"We've tried that. It never really does any good." Spork drummed the fingers of his left hand against his right arm, looking rather annoyed, "He always does what we ask of him.... more than what we ask of him, actually."  
  
"My Second?" Purple sounded more than a little confused.  
  
"We assigned him to guard duty on one of the most boring planets we could find, and as soon as he got there, he started blasting 'suspicious' ships out of the air before they could even request clearance. Seventeen hundred deaths from five Irken cargo ships." Spork muttered. After a pause, he continued.  
  
"Then we gave him janitorial duty and he somehow blew up one of our full auditorium halls while trying to fix the air conditioning system... in the middle of winter. Eight thousand Irken fatalities." Another meaningful pause.  
  
"We assigned him to a star system with instructions to map it all and he annihilated it. His claim was that it would be much easier to map it that way. Over five billion assorted species deaths." Spork finished grimly, "We really have tried everything, short of wiping him out of existence."  
  
"Why don't you just do that, then? Put him in a Spittle Runner, then blast him out of the sky?" Purple said, "It's what I would do, anyway."  
  
"With his uncanny luck, he'd survive through his escape pods, his ship would implode and take out all surrounding ships, damage our atmosphere and doom us to five years of blackout." Purple couldn't decide if Spork's tone was serious or sarcastic, but he sensed it wouldn't be wise to pursue the avenue of thought further.  
  
"More damage reports. Apparently he hot-wired a Spittle Runner and he's playing target practice with the surrounding neighborhood." The same Irken announced, "Should we stop him?"  
  
"Do it." Spork waved a hand, "Since Almighty Miyuki is absent, and furthermore ignorant of Zim, this responsibility falls to me... take him out with maximum force. If he's still alive when you're done, bring him to me."  
  
Purple shivered slightly. He wouldn't want Spork angry at him, that was for sure.  
  
"Deploying ships now." Reported the Irken. A minute passed, and then two. Purple turned as the elevator doors hissed open, blinking in surprise.  
  
Two Irken bodyguards, dragging a battered Zim between them, entered the room. They dumped him at Spork's feet and saluted.  
  
"Very good. Two minutes and thirteen seconds." Spork said, approvingly.  
  
"We're getting better." One of the bodyguards said, his tone wry, "We've had a lot of practice."  
  
Zim mumbled from the floor, his clothes ripped and blackened, and smudge marks on his face. He seemed to return to himself after a moment, looked up at Spork, and blinked. "Eh?"  
  
Spork glared down at him, "Zim. This is far from the first time that this has happened. If you have an explanation for your actions, I'd like to hear it."  
  
Zim stood up, brushing himself off, "My Second," he said, beginning to smirk, "I was simply practicing for the inevitable day when I become the greatest Irken of all time."  
  
Spork glowered, which seemed to make Zim reconsider, "Um... The greatest Irken Invader, I meant, my Second. For of course, you are very great yourself."  
  
"That is not what I am concerned with." Spork said, grinding his teeth, "I want to know why you were out there taking a Spittle Runner for a joyride and murdering my people. And I'm not interested in your pathetic excuses! I've had it up to here with your destructive nature, Zim! There is absolutely no reason I can see to let you live, you kill everyone you come into contact...with..." Spork trailed away suddenly in mid-tirade.  
  
Purple could see something like inspiration flash across his face, quickly hidden again as he resumed speaking.  
  
"Zim, I am not impressed with your current track record." Spork said, simply, "Give me a reason not to rip off your Pak right here and watch you die."  
  
"My Second!" Zim suddenly looked terrified, "I'll do anything! I live to serve you!"  
  
"I know." Spork said, to the shock of all present, "Which is why I'm going to give you another chance."  
  
Zim smiled, and Spork matched the smile indulgently, "There. Now, see? Aren't you happy, Zim?"  
  
The little Irken made noises of agreement, still grinning. Spork reached out and gently led the Irken over to the long ebony table in the middle of the room, sat him down on one end, and then walked to the other, lowering himself into the chair.  
  
"The rest of you can go now," he said, expansively, "I've got this situation well under control."  
  
The four or five Irkens crowded at the other end of the room murmured assent, giving Zim murderous looks as they passed by. The bodyguards saluted silently and left. Purple waited for a few seconds, then entered the elevator again, reluctantly, wondering what Spork had up his sleeve.  
  
Spork waited until the elevator doors closed before he turned his full attention on Zim, his mind working a mile a minute, "I'm going to assign you to a very special place, Zim, and I want you to do a special job there for me. Do you understand?"  
  
Zim nodded a few times, still looking at Spork with a devoted little face, "Special place, special thing." He parroted, "I live to serve you, you know."  
  
"Yes, good. The planet is home to a military base. The head scientist there has been working on an infinite energy producing system." Spork paused, thinking, "I want you to create an infinite energy absorbing animal of some sort, capable of absorbing as much energy as it can hold. And I want you to do it before next week. If you do it very well, Zim, you'll get to meet Tallest Miyuki."  
  
"I will?" Zim smiled, "I'd like that."  
  
"Mm-hmm." Spork steepled his fingers, "When she comes, you'll need to bring the creature to her, to show her." His face was cold and calculating, "This is the special job. It's top secret, so you can't tell anyone about it, even if they ask you. Think you're up to it, Zim?"  
  
"Of course I am, my Second!" Zim saluted, "I will begin at once!"  
  
"Good luck, soldier." Spork returned the salute, "Now go."  
  
Zim practically tripped over himself to get out the door, and Spork's smile was nothing short of devilish. Whether or not Miyuki would be mercilessly slaughtered by the creature that Zim would produce would remain to be seen. If he did, all well and good; Spork could ascend and start ruling properly. If not, well, at least he was out of the way. And maybe Miyuki would come to realize how deadly he was, and have him eliminated. Spork leaned back in his chair, content.  
  
"Have I ever told you how smart you are, Almighty Tallest Spork?" He asked himself, sniggering. The wheels of the chair slipped on the carpeting and Spork fell backward with a loud, surprised grunt. A few seconds later, a pathetic whine issued from the floor.  
  
"... my skull..." 


	4. Basic Training

It promised to be a terrible day.  
  
The Irken training instructor was pacing up and down in front of the line of soldiers, scowling. She might be pretty if her face wasn't always marred by that fearsome, angry expression. But as it was, nobody dared to tell her so, lest it result in some unwarranted punishment.  
  
Red was standing utterly still next to Purple, emitting waves of worry from his posture. He was probably wise to be doing so: Quarrel, the instructor, usually assigned difficult tasks that resulted in a lot of pain for a healthy Irken. Thanks to the scuffle the previous night, Red was far from healthy. He'd gotten scanned by their personal computer, which informed him that he was fit for duty. Red didn't necessarily agree, but he couldn't argue, either. He had too much going for him to start rebelling now.  
  
"Today, you are going to run a race-slash-obstacle course." Announced Quarrel, gazing down the row at the eight Irkens, "Whoever comes last will give me a hundred pushups in the double-gravity simulator. Just to give you some incentive to try your best."  
  
Red shifted beside Purple. His self-confidence had been lacking since he'd lost that game, fluke or no fluke, and he was already envisioning his defeat.  
  
Purple nudged him, "Try your best." He whispered.  
  
Red didn't reply, but he ducked down into a crouch, readying to begin. Before them sprawled the hologram room, not yet activated, but already all of the Irkens were getting into runner's stances. They exchanged looks that read the same; 'It might be you who comes last, and that's fine, but it had better not be me.'  
  
"Simply because this is a holographic training course does not mean you are free from any danger. The fire will still burn, the water can still drown, and any creatures will still hurt you." Quarrel warned. Red snorted in agreement, thinking back to his own previous experience, and quickly glanced away when she looked at him. "There are no rules to this particular test, except that you must not reach the finish line last. Begin."  
  
The room did a slow fade out, and three Irkens leapt forward, eager. They nearly ran right into a gaping pit, and only barely managed to stop, glancing above it to a set of monkey bars. Red had waited for a second, wisely, and now lunged forward with all his strength, both hands reaching out to snag the bars in roughly the middle of the pit. He grunted as his weight was displaced to his fingers, then began to quickly and efficiently climb across, swinging from bar to bar with breathtaking carelessness. The Irkens exchanged looks. Purple tentatively reached up for one of the bars and then followed Red, being more cautious in where he put his hands. The other Irkens, all varying heights, had to clamber up the side poles to reach the ones in the center.  
  
Red was almost three fourths of the way across when one of his hands slipped. The other tightened, feeling the increased weight, and he slowly, laboriously reached out for another nearby bar to reassert himself. After a few more seconds, he made it across fully and landed on solid ground.  
  
Purple wasn't far behind, dropping to his feet only a moment or so later, and eyed the next challenge. Another pit, not unlike the last, spanned by seven or so platforms suspended by wire cables. Behind him, three of the Irkens landed, two of which instantly approached the platforms. The first: Skooge, leapt for it bravely, landing on the end nearest to Purple and Red, then flailed his stubby arms in panic as the cables shifted, throwing him off balance. He caught one of the silvery wires in a vain attempt to save himself and it snapped off in his hand. Red darted forward, reaching out with one of his long arms and snagging Skooge's Pak before he plunged into oblivion. Red turned back to the platforms with a contemplative look, as if the rescue had been unimportant. His eyes trailed upward to where the cables disappeared into the gloom, then pressed a button on his own Pak. The standard issue spider legs ejected from them with a hissing whine, and Skooge, still clenched in his hand, emitted a startled shriek as Red leapt for the ceiling. His trajectory, if he was wrong, allowed no margin for error. If there was nothing holding the cables up that could be grabbed, they would both plummet into blackness.  
  
Red reached with his free hand as his spider legs stretched up as well, and snagged onto a pipe. He came to an abrupt stop, clenching his teeth, and waited for the spider legs to get their own grips. Then he began to maneuver across, tossing Skooge to the ground before jumping down lightly himself. Purple had been judging distances the entire time, and now leapt agilely from one platform to another, ignoring their erratic movements and skidding as he made the last jump to the ground again.  
  
"Your way was slower." Red told him, grinning, as his legs returned to their places in his Pak.  
  
"But I was sure I wouldn't die." Purple returned.  
  
"Touché." Red glanced towards the front, where an ominous trench of murky water stretched out.  
  
"Filled with something. Poisonous Dorch-fish, Vultainian octopuses... or maybe it's just electrocuted." Purple looked nervous, "Red, we should let someone else go first."  
  
"That's why I brought him." Red gestured to Skooge, "Go on, little guy."  
  
Skooge tentatively approached the edge of the trench, poked his hand in, and then drew it back fearfully. Red silently walked up behind him as he bent to try to see into the water, and nudged him. It was all it took; the shorter Irken screeched as he tumbled into the water. There was a loud succession of working jaws, snapping teeth, and anguished screams. Red grabbed Purple's arm, "Piranhas! We've got about a minute to get to the other side while they work on him!" Before Purple could protest, he turned and dove into the water. Purple gave chase, surfacing and gasping for air.  
  
Red was a quick swimmer, but it was plain to see nobody could pass the entire trench in less than a minute. Behind them, Skooge's muffled shrieks started coming more infrequently, and the other five Irkens ran up, only to slow and crowd uneasily on the edge, none of them wanting to risk getting attacked by whatever seemed to be eating Skooge.  
  
A minute and ten seconds of swimming brought the other edge tantalizingly closer, though Red would reach it first. Something brushed against Purple's leg, and he let out an alarmed gurgle as he turned to see what it was. A Vultainian Octopus, just as he had predicted, had snagged him and was drawing him closer to its fanged maw. Purple stuck a hand out of the water despairingly, hoping Red would see it. The octopus drifted a little closer, its four central eyes glowing like fog-lights, and it let out an ultrasonic squeal as it sensed food was near. It took no notice as three Irkens bombed past, swimming as fast as they could and being chased by the piranhas, who seemed done with Skooge at last. A few seconds later, though, to Purple's shock, Skooge appeared, trailing the Irkens by considerably less than he should have been, and looking remarkably intact.  
  
Purple redoubled his effort to get free, trying to yank his leg out of the iron grip of the octopus without having it be forcibly ripped off. He burst toward the surface again, rearing his head and waving his arms frantically, "Red!" he howled, trying to breathe and cry for help at the same time. The octopus yanked him down, but not before he caught a glimpse of his friend; standing on the other bank, watching grimly, then turning away from him.  
  
"Red..." He gurgled from underwater, panic overtaking him. He never thought he would die at the tentacles of a holographic octopus. His vision began to black out as he flailed more and more futilely, snatches of conversation reaching his antennae from the other bank, nothing concrete, just words....  
  
And then the words, fuzzy as they were, began to resolve themselves, "Crazy! Why would... look at... him..."  
  
Purple felt the undeniable urge to breathe in. He knew it was water all around him and not air, but his chest ached to breathe. The wonderful lose/lose situation. He felt if he didn't breathe, he would die, and he knew somewhere deep down that if he did breathe, he would die. He hung on grimly, trying to pull the tentacle off his leg still, felt his fingers slip clumsily away from the appendage, and his limbs began to slacken.  
  
"...Never going to make it in time..."  
  
No, they're right, Purple thought, dimly. I'll never win the race now. ...Red...  
  
A strong arm hooked itself under his, grabbed and pulled upward, and the octopus clicked in surprise. It had sensed its prey dying and had let the tentacle relax, and now found its meal torn out of its grasp. Purple looked up, "Red?"  
  
Red clenched his teeth, dragging Purple along behind him, and muttered something about excess baggage. He waded out of the water a foot away from several snapping piranhas and helped Purple to stand.  
  
Purple took in a deep lungful of air, leaning on Red for support, and glanced up blearily at the end of the holographic course, where six Irkens stood, along with Quarrel. Slowly, and with as much dignity as he could muster, Red started walking to the finish line, simply diverting around the two other hazards.  
  
"I'm sorry, Red." Purple managed, coughing.  
  
"And I thought I'd be the one to come last." Red responded, no anger in his voice.  
  
They reached the finish line together, a bedraggled looking sight. Quarrel looked from one to the other, her face still set in that scowl.  
  
"That was some teamwork." She remarked, "I have to admit I've never seen an Irken foolish enough to follow another into troubled waters... or in that case, one foolish enough to go back into those same waters to rescue a comrade."  
  
Purple was looking at the floor, water coursing down his outfit to puddle on the holographic surface, "I should have been able to save myself." He mumbled.  
  
"Sometimes people can't do things by themselves." The instructor looked up at Red, "Why did you go back for him when you knew you'd lose the race?"  
  
Red faced her down solidly, "It was a stupid race anyway." he said defensively, his arm around Purple, "I didn't see the point of it."  
  
"Not even with the threat of a hundred double gravity pushups?" She questioned. Red looked defiant for a moment, then the look faded into one of resignation.  
  
"I know he'd do the same for me." He said simply, "We look out for one another."  
  
"That's very noble." The instructor said, and after a pause, "Report to the double gravity room."  
  
Red walked off, still leading Purple, and entered the double gravity simulation room, sitting down on a bench.  
  
"It was my fault." Purple said uncomfortably, "I'm sorry."  
  
"Your fault? You were the one who thought the octopus would be in there in the first place, and I ignored you. If anyone, it should have been me who got snagged." Red looked at the floor, the holographic water from his own suit drying off, "If only Zim had been in that race. Then I could have kicked him off into that bottomless hole."  
  
Purple tilted his head, "That reminds me... I was with Second Spork last night, and..."  
  
"You met Second Spork?" Red asked.  
  
"Yes. He's very tall." Purple continued, "Anyway, that isn't important. Zim was caught blowing up neighborhoods, and at first, Second seemed really, really upset. But then he started being nice to him."  
  
"Nice? To Zim?" Red snorted, "That proves it, Spork is crazy. Nobody should be nice to that little creep; he should be hated to the ends of the universe."  
  
"I know. That's what bothers me..." Purple cut off abruptly as the instructor entered the room, and glumly got to the floor in push up position.  
  
"I just think maybe...ughh... something is going on." He grunted, clenching his teeth.  
  
"I wouldn't...mmmff... be one to disagree..." Red returned, thoughtfully, "It does seem...a bit suspicious."  
  
"You might want to save your breath," Quarrel told them, "You'll be needing it, I assure you."  
  
Purple let out a pained groan, but Red didn't seem all that perturbed, "Race you to a hundred."  
  
A slow, hesitant smile formed on Purple's face, blossoming into a grin, "You're on!" 


	5. The SendOff

"Such a beautiful planet," Spork breathed, "And soon to be mine."  
  
The Second Tallest stood with his hands clasped in front of his formal uniform, a dim reflection of his face in the window. His head still occasionally ached from the fall he had taken earlier, and he rubbed it absently, still observing through the window as Irkens went about their daily routines to keep the planetary war machine oiled and running smoothly. He'd gotten no sleep the night before, and the day was beginning to catch up with him. he mused on the dreary, almost nocturnal day that was Irk's normal state. The smog that still remained from eons past choked the ecosystem and had night and day both in its iron grip. Thinking of iron grips led him to think of the Tallest, which led him even further back to her.  
  
He knew somewhere inside that his plot to dispatch Miyuki was not only criminally wrong and punishable by execution, but it was also somewhat evil. She had, after all, significant importance in his life. He wouldn't stoop so low as to label her his girlfriend, nothing of the sort. She was simply...someone to whom he could have told anything, if he so desired. A dedicated friend, he supposed. But he found he could not make himself care about her death.  
  
A primal instinct, greater than hunger, about on par with survival, was the desire to rule, and Spork wanted it very badly. He didn't really mind who he had to manipulate, who he had to step on, as long as the reins to Irk were clenched in his three fingered fist. ...Two fingered though it would be at the formal ceremony, however, when Irken thumbs were severed from their owners to prove the Tallest's superiority in being able to rule without opposable thumbs.  
  
Spork didn't believe in galactic karma, or in that case, spirituality of any sort. Power came from the people who put it into place, and one Irken, even a Tallest, more or less, wouldn't be missed.  
  
He thought back to the other Irken he'd met the day before, frowning. Purple reminded him of Miyuki, disturbingly enough, an unneeded reminder of the price that had to be paid for absolute power. Lonely at the top, indeed. Lonely, and messy, as well. In the same way that a spiderweb tantalized with its beauty and interest, did the lure of power and politics sway him, but he knew that as he drew close and reached for it that it would crumble and be destroyed. Such a frail thing was leadership...  
  
"Worth it." He assured himself, forcing a grin. The reflection imitated it, as fake as his, and quietly he dropped it for a more sober expression, which, though more natural, wasn't befitting of the joy he wanted to feel.  
  
"My Second Tallest Spork," A formal voice asked from behind him, and he turned his head listlessly.  
  
"Mm?"  
  
"I have some papers here for you to sign, my Second. Formal releases for Zim to go off-planet...you know, since the last time..."  
  
"Yes." Spork's antennae drooped, "I remember." Another of the over seven hundred thirty five Zim-related catastrophes that had rocked planet Irk since the young creature's unfortunate cloning. He sat down at the desk, running his hands over the polished surface for a second, and a slot opened, depositing a pen in his waiting hand.  
  
He read over the paper briefly, translating it from legal gobbledygook to normal speech and gnawing on the pen end. He didn't entertain the notion that the papers had anything designed to trick him, but he was required to read everything that he signed and fully understand it first.  
  
He scrawled his name at the bottom after a few more minutes of pursuing the terms. Spork knew Tallests had to be intelligent as well as towering in stature, or their actions could be manipulated by their underlings. So Spork had made it his goal to improve his mind as much as he could, only paying the briefest of attention to his physical attributes.  
  
"Is that all?" he asked, handing the paper back to the small secretary.  
  
"No, sir. Zim requested a meeting with you. He has some last minute questions about his...ahh... mission." Fumbled the Irken, knowing it was the last thing Spork wanted to hear and unfortunately something that he couldn't afford to ignore.  
  
"Very well, transport him here, and I'll see him in a minute." Spork dismissed his secretary. He begrudged his awful luck that the only Irken capable of destroying his rival was also the most annoying and downright thickheaded. He let none of his opinions about Zim show outwardly, tapping his fingers against the desk. His mind wandered back to Miyuki.  
  
Beautiful Miyuki. If only...  
  
No. The deed was too close to being complete.  
  
You can still stop it from happening, a voice murmured in his mind; common sense rising swiftly to counter the greedy voice.  
  
His inner turmoil didn't get a chance to resolve itself, as the door creaked open and Zim poked his head in, hands wrapped around the sides of the door, using it as a shield, appearing ready to flee at once. Spork, trying to appear nonthreatening, waved a little.  
  
"Zim, come in! My assistant tells me you had some questions." He said.  
  
"Um...yes. I do." Zim said reluctantly, "It was never my intent to bother you, My Second, not at all, you see, but I was just wondering."  
  
"Yes?" Spork could feel his eye twitching in the pure agony of having to keep up the facade and silently begged it to stop. Zim didn't seem to notice or care, stepping inside a little bit. He looked smaller than usual in the doorway of the room, built for taller Irkens, and unusually meek.  
  
"It's just, that, when I meet Miyuki, what should I say? I've never met a genuine Tallest before in person. Should I wiggle my antennae first and then salute, or bow and then salute and -then- antennae-salute, or...."  
  
By the first Tallest, this is irrelevant. Spork thought, becoming annoyed.  
  
"Zim, this doesn't have any bearing on your mission." Spork said, calmly, "Skip to your next question, please."  
  
Zim stopped in mid-sentence obediently, "Yes, My Second. On my way here I stopped to get a soda, and I wandered inside this black building looking for a soda machine....and I got distracted, and..."  
  
Spork had that intense grip of horror that one gets when they are on the brink of realizing something very terrible indeed, and rose from his chair, "A 'black building', Zim?"  
  
"...Alarms were going off or something..." Zim trailed away and looked up, "But my question was if you knew if there were any soda machines in here, because I'm still thirsty."  
  
Spork felt his throat close, and tapped a button on the desk, "Assistant, has there been any crisis in the past fifteen minutes?" he croaked.  
  
"Funny you should ask. I didn't want to bother you with it, but it looks like there was a small disturbance in sub-section fifty with some anti- invasion activity...got it all cleaned up with the security, so no problem there."  
  
"No, I mean big disturbances." A feeling of relief was waiting hesitantly in Spork's mind, hoping for the assistant to confirm that, too.  
  
"I'll check....By the Tallest!" The assistant shrieked over the intercom, after a pause.  
  
Spork's heart sank. "What? What is it?!"  
  
"Missiles have been set off in the vicinity...!! Three of twenty ionic- designed missiles have been launched and have circled back around to the- oh... !" her voice was cut off by a harsh crackle of static.  
  
All the lights in the building died at once, accompanied by a fading roar of machinery shutting down. Spork turned to the window. As far as the eye could see, all of Irk had been plunged into blackout.  
  
He sought out Zim as the emergency lights began to gleam faintly red, and saw the Irken fumbling in his Pak. Zim withdrew a soda, looked relieved, and said, "Don't worry, My Second, I found one."  
  
Spork fought the impulse to wrap his hands around the Irken's throat and throttle the life from him, breathing deeply in an attempt to master himself. He tapped the intercom button and the assistant's voice became audible, panicked, but keeping it under control.  
  
"...Lines are out, we have massive casualties, My Second! I repeat, massive casualties in the surrounding area..."  
  
"Damage reports...?" Spork laced his fingers together, waiting.  
  
"Flooding in from all around this general area for five hundred miles at least, Second. Fatalities already number in the thousands, no telling how many are missing as of yet. Most areas seem stabilized... fourteen wildfires...and resulting shock waves from the disturbed core could decimate ground zero even further."  
  
"Very well. Send as much aid as we can." Spork turned back to Zim, and found that he wasn't even remotely surprised to see that Zim was oblivious, "Well." He said.  
  
"Eh?" Zim glanced up, "Are you ready to listen now?"  
  
"To be quite frank, Zim, people like you aren't meant to question my orders. If I tell you to do something, you are going to do it, no matter the objections, nor the uncertainties. Now get out of my office, board your ship and leave my planet as fast as zirqing possible." The ancient expletive slipped from his mouth before he could stop it, but Zim didn't seem to notice.  
  
He saluted, "Yes, My Second," and headed for the door.  
  
Spork sat back down slowly, then leaned on his arms, doing his best to recover some bearing of dignity. He didn't have to see the wreckage if he didn't want to, but he could imagine. He could piece it together from countless other sites he'd seen that were Zim's fault.  
  
At each one he read in the survivors' eyes, "Why didn't you stop him sooner? Why didn't you execute him like you should have done so long ago?"  
  
And he could never find any answer. Truthfully, he had entertained the idea of Zim somehow improving, making less mistakes and taking less lives. But it didn't seem to be happening.  
  
"Mm. That settles it. After my inauguration, I'm going to have him killed. I'll brand him a traitor to... Irk, or...something..." Spork murmured sleepily, and the thought soothed him. Finally, action taken.  
  
His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned on his arms, and before he drifted off completely, as he always did, he thought of her. Soon she would only exist in his thoughts... sadly to say, it didn't sway him much.  
  
Little did he know how steep the price of power was. 


	6. Blackout

Purple walked along the street glumly, lifting his head every now and again to observe Red's silent back. The sun had risen quite a while ago, shadowing two of the three visible moons, and Red had announced that he was going for a walk.  
  
Red had shown no outward signs of either his stomach injury or the push- ups, but Purple, having come last in the race to a hundred, felt as though he couldn't lift his arms. This was a vast improvement over an hour ago, during which he couldn't even feel his arms. Nevertheless here he was, trailing behind Red like some kind of insufferable puppy. Just because Red enjoyed his company didn't mean much; he still felt like just an annoyance.  
  
In the daylight, Irk was still as dark as it was at night thanks to all the pollution from earlier centuries. That everything was powered by clean energy sources now meant nothing to the ecosystem that had already been crippled beyond repair. The smog hovered overhead by day and night, and only rarely thinned. The Tallest's advisors had been discussing finding some way of eliminating it, but so far talk was all that had happened and the planet's resources still lunged headfirst into the invasion effort.  
  
Purple harbored some secret doubts about the rightness of conquest. He didn't argue that the law of the universe was that the weak served the strong. It wasn't even that part he had trouble with. He just couldn't see any clear end to the domination. When would it be over? When Irk policed every planet in every system, and controlled everything of value in the entire universe?  
  
Perhaps then some attention would be paid to the ecosystem, so tiny little Irkens could look up and see the stars they were destined to own.  
  
"Come on. Let's go get something to eat." Red suggested from ahead of him, breaking his train of thought, "I feel like some nachos."  
  
Without waiting for a reply, he increased his pace and headed for a nearby building. It was something of a hybrid of a group of stores, restaurants and video games.  
  
The door hissed open automatically in front of him and he stepped in. The maximum capacity of the place was perhaps a hundred, but the building was packed. Red grimly realized it was the shift in which most Irkens were released from duty to recharge themselves. His eyes flicked to the nearby Alien Melee game in time to see one player release a spin kick on his opponent, and grimaced. If anyone challenged him to play, he'd have no choice but to accept or look weak, and after the last time, he had an ill feeling of coming anywhere near a virtual fighting game.  
  
Something else caught his attention; a flashing billboard with jagged letters that read  
  
[Sector Seven and Eight Emergency Preparedness in Event of a Zim Related Casualty]  
  
And then a list of several items below it, in print too small to read from where he was. He turned his mind back on the situation at hand, namely a growling Squeedly-Spooch. He approached the counter of Taco Nova, requested what he wanted from the tiny Irken at the counter, and waited. Purple leaned on the counter next to him, practicing a look of disdain as he watched all the small people milling around randomly and bumping into each other.  
  
A minute later, the Irken at the counter had deposited a tray in front of Red, who took it and tossed a few monies down at him.  
  
"So much for good service." He said, appropriately arrogant. Purple nodded silently, framing a response in his mind.  
  
Many of the inhabitants' mindless chatter had stopped, and they were looking at the two Irkens in something like reverence. Red and Purple took a seat at a crowded table, and many of the littler customers decided to make themselves scarce, not wanting to be in the presence of two tall Irkens.  
  
If a public disturbance happened, the security robots that arrived on the scene would turn to the tallest Irkens in attendance and ask for the information they needed. It was all too easy to fabricate something to get back at a smaller soldier who had annoyed them in some way.  
  
Red had already dug into his nachos ravenously, and was chewing thoughtfully.  
  
"Something wrong?" Purple inquired.  
  
Red grunted and shook his head a bit, looking warily around. He swallowed. "No. Aren't you hungry?"  
  
Purple shrugged, "Nah."  
  
"Well, something's wrong with you." Red turned the question back at him, jabbing a spindly finger in his direction; "You're acting really funny lately. So spill the bordge already. What's going on?"  
  
This prompted an uneasy pause from Purple as he contemplated several responses, including one that was truthful. "Red... I..." He paused.  
  
Red was gazing at him, a nacho in one hand dripping with cheese as he waited, motionless. Purple could tell that the curiosity from the other had been bugging him for some time, and he was anxious to find out what was wrong.  
  
Purple took a breath to say something, and the building suddenly shuddered. Irkens gasped and began to murmur worriedly. All the lights glowed brighter than usual, and then dimmed and died. The murmurs turned into panicked screeches and cries as the Irkens headed for the automatic door and found it out of order. Purple felt a flash of fear.  
  
"What's going on?" He whimpered, as though his companion knew any more than he did.  
  
"Attention, Irkens. This is a Class Zim Emergency. Please do not panic. This is not a drill." A loudspeaker announced the message in an automated voice, "There has been a temporary cut in power. Casualties, please report to the medical facility nearest you if you are more than fifty percent damaged. If not, please do your part and seek other Irkens who need your assistance."  
  
Red stood up on the table, discarding the nacho, and called, "Hey! You pint- sized pip-squeaks, be quiet!"  
  
Silence followed like a deity had aimed a remote control and pressed mute. All eyes turned to the Irken on the table, colors enhanced by glowing red emergency lights. The insult had gotten their attention, all right.  
  
The panic of the mob, pushing against one another, seemed to slowly ebb as they recognized Someone In Authority. The fabled figure seemed to instill some measure of calm, though the group continued to throng near the door.  
  
"Okay. You heard the announcement. Who here is injured?" Red took the silence to revert to his normal speaking voice, which carried quite far as it was.  
  
There was no response, indicating that nobody had been hurt, only frightened by the sudden impending claustrophobia.  
  
"Well, good. There are probably a lot of Irkens more unlucky than we were." Red wiped his mouth with a napkin, his own heart racing with adrenaline to try to get him away from the fabled fight or flight situation, and he had to take a moment or so to calm himself down.  
  
Purple marveled at Red's apparent self-control. He seemed a born leader, taking charge in a catastrophe so smoothly, as though he'd been cloned to do so. Everything about Red was tough and unyielding, though. It was hardly surprising that he wouldn't stand for a mass panic while he was able to do something about it.  
  
"We'll just wait right here for someone to come get us," He continued, "This is a business hub next to one of the most largely used docking- stations; it's not as though they could forget about us."  
  
His speech seemed to soothe many of the Irkens, who stood with upturned faces to his table, watching him emit leadership from every pore.  
  
Purple took a sip from his soda, eyes trailing upward to watch Red as well. It was good to know his friend was taking control, even though there was precious little that they could do.  
  
From the same speaker, an alarm suddenly blared. It proved to be the first and final straw as the illusion of Red's control vanished, and the hysteria of the crowd swept back up.  
  
Red backed up on the table, trying to raise his voice again over the screaming and sirens both, and failing. He flailed his arms for balance, landed on his behind on the table, and grimaced. Just like that, everyone was trampling on one another, trying to get to the exit that plainly didn't work. Purple swept the nachos off the table and stood up, turning.  
  
"Everyone shut up!" He screamed at the top of his lungs. His voice carried over the siren and the crowd as well. The siren wound to a stop mere moments later.  
  
"The doors don't work, you stupid little idiots, and if you keep this up you'll all be dead before rescue comes! Whoever has the collective brain- cell here, share it, because the rest of these people seem to have a short- out!" He took a deep breath, smoldering anger in his voice, "I came here to get a drink, that's all, I didn't want to get trapped any more than you, but it's not as though we're under invasion, it's only Zim! This kind of thing happens every solar turn! Now shut up and sit down!"  
  
Everyone sat.  
  
Red blinked. "Wow." He said, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "And I didn't think you had it in you."  
  
Purple glanced back, not missing the smile, and sat on the chair again, picking up his drink daintily, "I hate these places." 


	7. Enter Xerox

His name was Xerox, and although he was one of the most loyal Irkens a Tallest could find, right now he was questioning his Second's sanity.  
  
Send Zim, THE Zim, here? To a top secret and rather important military base?  
  
It did seem an act of a mentally deficient leader, or perhaps just a desperate one. Xerox watched with anticipation as the bright streak of light that was Zim's ship descended. It touched down mere minutes later with a small whine, and the doors opened. Zim stepped out, eyed Xerox, and then passed him over, observing the rest of the landing bay without comment.  
  
"Welcome," Xerox began without much enthusiasm, "I hope you enjoy your stay, Second Lieutenant Zim."  
  
"Thank you." Zim said, with false sincerity, "Though I doubt I'll be enjoying myself. Top Secret mission business and all, you see." He smugly walked past Xerox, leaving the other Irken to widen an eye in confusion.  
  
"You...um...know your way around?" Xerox asked.  
  
Zim replied, arrogantly, "How hard could it be? I know you have lots of, heh, really important work to do, so go ahead, get on it. I'll be fine."  
  
Xerox looked a bit unsure, but saluted anyway, ignoring the derisive tone of the other. "Very well, sir. Be sure to exercise caution around the subspace engines, and -"  
  
"Yes." there was a distinct note of irritation in Zim's voice by now, "I will." He turned and walked off, leaving the doors to close reluctantly behind him.  
  
Xerox checked his data-readout, trying to ascertain what Zim was actually going to be doing, and hoping it was nothing more destructive than staring at the inside of a detainment cell for a week. Then he startled as his eyes caught the rest of the memo. It read, in bold letters,  
  
ALMIGHTY TALLEST MIYUKI SCHEDULED A SUBSPACE WEEK FROM TODAY-CLEAN UP ALL AREAS AND STAND TALL!  
  
Xerox's emerald eyes became quite a bit smaller as he contemplated the meaning of the memo, and of Zim's sudden, hushed appearance. He stood in the center of the bustling docking bay, lost in thought, until a friend tapped him on the shoulder.  
  
"Hey, 'Ox!" The smaller Irken said, with a familiarity that was discouraged in the workplace, "Wanna stop by for lunch in the mess hall in an hour or so?"  
  
Xerox tried a smile, but it looked more like a pained facial spasm. "Um."  
  
"Come on, you NEVER eat with us! You're as antisocial as one of the slaughtering rat people from Blorch."  
  
"I've got a lot of work to do." Xerox scowled, "I'd suggest you go wherever it is you're needed, soldier." He watched the Irken walk away, looking more than a little betrayed.  
  
Xerox returned to the paper, biting his lip. A week from today, and that Zim shows up booked for exactly one week... the whole thing seemed as suspicious as a Trill ship surrendering in the heat of a dogfight. He put the note away reluctantly, as if further reading could give him the hints to solving the puzzle that he needed, and instead walked back through the docking bay and to one of the main laboratories.  
  
The final plans for the Tallest's warship Massive were strewn across the desk and floating in hover displays everywhere. In the center of the room, smothered in wires and lights and looking like nothing Xerox had ever seen before was the 'Infinite Energy Producing Thingy', or IEPT for short, as dubbed by its proud creator. The head scientist was absent from the room, but one of his assistants was present, enthusiastically chattering about the IEPT to a soldier.  
  
"The IEPT is very potent, with the capability of...Oh, greetings, Commander Xerox," She broke off her explanation, turning to him with a puzzled expression, "Is something wrong?"  
  
Xerox found that he didn't know quite what to say. "I suppose...could I talk to you in private?" His clipped tone conveyed nothing of his urgency, but she seemed to pick up on it regardless.  
  
"Certainly." She hastened out of the room, following him until they were a good way down the deserted hall, "What is the matter, Commander?"  
  
"Zim was assigned here yesterday and arrived about a quarter of an hour ago." Xerox looked troubled, "And Tallest Miyuki, as you know, is scheduled to visit, to view both the Infinite Energy Producing Thingy and plans for the Massive. Zim's duration is a week. Miyuki arrives in a week."  
  
She looked a bit crestfallen, "Commander, I don't believe I understand where you're coming from."  
  
Of course. Admitting a connection would be like admitting that the government was corrupt and had deliberately sent Zim to wreak havoc just as Miyuki touched down.... or admitting the government was flawed and hadn't taken into account the two colliding.  
  
"I'm sorry to have wasted your time, miss." Xerox said, a bit blankly, "You're right."  
  
She frowned then, "Right about what? ...You believe there's a correlation, is what you're saying." It wasn't exactly a question, but he answered it anyway.  
  
"Yes." Xerox swallowed, didn't want to ask if she saw it too.  
  
The scientist suddenly found something very interesting in the floor, but muttered as she did, "I suggest precautions, Commander. The IEPT is one of our most valuable creations yet. Imagine, an unlimited source of energy, capable of powering anything. A spaceship...a planet's resources... we have yet to reach any limitations."  
  
"And never mind that it's riddled with paradox," Xerox allowed himself a small smile.  
  
"Ahh, but think. Our ancestors thought we'd never advance past our own universe, and look now! They've unlocked multiverses, parallel dimensions, other places we've never even thought could have existed. And someday they'll look back on us, and think, "However did they manage with their primitive natures?" " She smiled, raising her head, "Thank you for the warning, Commander. We shall indeed exercise caution in keeping Zim away from Miyuki."  
  
"Thank you." Xerox seemed more than a little relieved, "Farewell."  
  
"Farewell, Commander."  
  
And he left. 


	8. Unfriendly Fight

Power returned to the entire planet less than two hours after Zim's ship left its atmosphere. Most of the planet's inhabitants were unruffled by the whole affair, and went about their business as usual. The Irkens in the food court cheered as the doors stubbornly opened at last, and rushed out to resume their duties, happy to be alive, at least.  
  
Purple lingered for a few minutes, sorting out his thoughts, and Red hung back to wait.  
  
"Purple?" His tone could be interpreted as anything from concern to gentle prodding, a sort of 'come back' nudge for his friend. "You were going to tell me what was the matter."  
  
The amethyst Irken blinked, startled, and looked around, seeing only the desolate building. There'd never be a better chance to confess his feelings to the only other person who he could tell anything to.  
  
He said the first thing that came to his mind, "Red, do you hate me?"  
  
It took Red a few minutes to respond, clearly faced with a problem he'd not considered, "Why would you ask me a stupid question like that? You're the only Irken on this planet I can stand, Purple."  
  
"Not even because I'm a rival for the throne that you've wanted since you were a Smeet?" He hadn't intended to zing Red, but the reply sounded more like a snapback than anything else.  
  
Red just stared at him for a moment, face betraying signs of hurt. "Fine," He snapped, "Don't believe me." and wheeled around, stalking to the door.  
  
Purple watched him go, then jogged to catch up, "Wait!! Red!"  
  
"I didn't have to come back to help you, but I did." Red's eyes glittered, his back to his friend, "This is the thanks I get for the one act of selflessness I've committed in my lifetime."  
  
"I didn't mean it that way..." Purple felt helpless, his natural timid nature sweeping back up to engulf his explanations and his counter- arguments alike.  
  
"No, of course not," Red continued, "You meant to tell me you think I'm a usurping ghoul who'd cut off his arm for a piece of the pie. You meant to tell me you didn't realize that I risked my own skin to pull yours away from that Vultainian beast. You meant to tell me our friendship of so many countless years means absolutely nothing to me. That's what you meant, right?"  
  
Purple searched for anger at these words, trying to find something to help him defend himself, and found nothing. He stared helplessly at Red's back, unable to do anything else.  
  
"You're just a bully." He tried half heartedly, "And you... you asked me what was wrong. I knew this would happen, but I tried to tell you how I felt..."  
  
"Oh. You succeeded. Trust me. I know exactly how you feel about me, now." Red was glad Purple couldn't see him, because his eyes were burning with rage and humiliation that he'd let someone so obviously unworthy get so close to him. Something begged him to forgive, but something deeper told him to forget.  
  
Red was staring at the outside world, the doors patiently remaining open for him as long as he stood in their shadow, and tried to make his heart stop hurting. "So forget it. I'm requesting a transfer from my building as soon as possible, so you never have to deal with me again."  
  
"You're just taking what I'm saying and making it all horrible!" Purple grabbed his own antennae in frustration, tugging on them, "What's the point of pretending to be my friend if you turn a deaf feeler to everything I say?!" He took a breath, "Just let me explain..."  
  
"Haven't you told me enough?!" He took a step outside and the doors hissed shut at last.  
  
Red marched outside and down the street, leaving the distraught Purple behind. He headed back for their joint living-facility, entered, and felt a pang of guilt. "Wasn't my fault," he said aloud.  
  
His voice sounded flat in the silence, and he approached the bed, sat down, and then glared quietly at the dresser. A smiling Purple and Red hugged each other, the former wearing a goofy cap with the logo of his favorite Zurt-ball team, the latter looking reluctant, but hiding happiness. Red remembered the moment: the picture was taken just minutes before the Zurt- ball whacked him in the head, from way off left field.  
  
Red's fingers reached out slowly, then decisively grabbed the frame and slammed the picture down on its face, hiding the photo. He turned away from it with the air of a petulant child. "Be ungrateful and rude and spiteful." Red growled, "Just do it in a place where I can't see you."  
  
He looked across the room at Purple's half: spotless, almost gleaming. Always dusted, never any clothes or random junk on the floor or strewn over the back of his chair. It contrasted sharply to Red's side, which was always teeming with dust, the floor hidden by laundry and items which seemed fun to have before he actually got them, and then got bored with them.  
  
Red sat there dully, still trying to sort out his feelings, and scowled. Why did everything have to be so incredibly complicated, anyway? So what if he was just a tiny bit jealous that his friend (underling?) had advanced to an equal height? It was natural, and he was only Irken, after all.  
  
Red leaned back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling instead. He let out a whoosh of air in a sigh, fingers clenching his arms as he realized there would be no easy answers.  
  
He would do anything for Purple, but he'd never admit it, even under duress. Because caring was a weakness, depending on someone else for comfort was a flaw, needing anyone else but yourself was just abnormal. All that withstanding, there was something he felt for Purple that he couldn't deny, some expertly hidden emotion that was raging against his normally apathetic outlook.  
  
(You hurt his feelings, you know.)  
  
His conscience spoke up, louder.  
  
(You really hurt him.)  
  
"How would you know?" Red paused, "Oh, great. I'm acknowledging my conscience." The scowl returned, "Fine, if you're so clever, tell me how to handle this."  
  
The voice was silent, as Red knew it would be. It was always there to berate him, but it never had any of the answers. He could almost find it laughable, if he wasn't feeling so down on himself and the universe in general.  
  
The bed felt uncomfortable. Another sign of his restlessness, he supposed. He tapped out a tune with his fingers on the bedpost, trying to take his mind off Purple and everything else, failing miserably at it. "I'm sorry." He tried it out aloud, it didn't sound too bad. Choked and stubborn, but sincere. Or -should- he be sorry? Maybe he was the one who was supposed to forgive, maybe it hadn't been his fault at all. Now, that was wishful thinking.  
  
Red twitched, and decided that if he had to say sorry, he could do it. If he had to forgive, well, he could do that, too. But it felt so unnatural to continue some pointless fight with his best friend. After all, it was Purple who usually helped him sort out his feelings, and who could he turn to when he'd shoved his friend away?  
  
Red resolved grimly to wait right there until Purple came back. If there was one quality that would cause Purple trouble when he became a Tallest, it was his inability to hold a grudge.  
  
Red was confident that Purple would forgive. 


	9. Spork and Miyuki

Spork sat at his desk, eyes playing uninterestedly over the papers in front of him. What he really wanted was the opportunity to see Tallest Miyuki slaughtered by Zim, but to avoid any suspicion, he'd have to feign total ignorance of anything in connection with the base. Which meant no live video transmissions, of course.  
  
He found himself growing increasingly distracted, reading the same line repeatedly without comprehension, his mind automatically deciphering the legality into normal speech so that it flitted to the back of his subconscious, and with a sigh, he lowered his hands, placing the paper facedown on the desk. No sense in reading anything if he couldn't focus enough to understand it.  
  
Brushing his antennae back, he turned the chair to look out the window. He brooded for a moment on the monster staring back from the semi-reflective glass, and a small, crooked grin twisted his mouth. That perfectly angular shape with the jewel-like eyes blue as a Terranen sunset...who would suspect evil from such a beautiful face? Well, nobody. And since he'd acquired his current position without any treachery on record, he would continue to be free of blame. No bloody dagger or heated laser gun would be around to betray him, and he could even feign grief over Miyuki's death. Shed a few tears, recall some old memories. Make a show of talking through a constricted throat... And perhaps even request to be excused during his acceptance speech! --Ahh, but best not to overplay it. Someone might suspect...  
  
The muted beeping of a transmission cut into his devious thoughts, and he absently tapped the receive button, looking up to the screen to see which infidel had dared disturb him. He nearly choked on his tongue and stood at once, saluting both manually and with his antennae, "Almighty Tallest Miyuki!!"  
  
He fought to keep any scrap of emotion off his face as her green eyes bore keenly into his, even as he imagined her being fragged beyond recognition, even as he thought of how pretty she still looked, of that barrier between him and total power...!  
  
"Second Tallest Spork," she said formally, "Are you well?"  
  
He could actually feel every heartbeat, and swallowed past a dry throat to respond, "Well enough. And yourself?"  
  
"Quite." She was all business, no more youthful idealism. The rigors of absolute power had chased any joy from her face, but it retained its almost porcelain, delicate beauty. She was thin, even for a Tallest, and had exaggerated, swept back antennae, curled elegantly.  
  
Spork's eyes darted away for a brief second, "Where are you, My Tallest?"  
  
She frowned prettily, "Currently orbiting a planet." Deliberately obtuse, in case the transmission was being monitored by some enemy. He could have kicked himself for being so stupid: why ask a possibly traitorous question like that?  
  
"I am contacting you to check up on the welfare of Planet Irk." Miyuki's face turned a bit harder, if such a thing was possible, "I heard reports of a blackout."  
  
"Mm, news travels fast in space. It's fixed." Spork's reply was glib, uninterested, and he hoped she would be, too.  
  
"Good, very good."  
  
Spork laced his fingers together in the hope that they wouldn't start trembling. He needed to get a better hold on his emotions. The transmission hadn't been patched through by his secretary, and he hadn't had time to mentally prepare himself.  
  
"Ahh... is that all, My Tallest?" Spork asked quietly. He felt as though her eyes could see right into his guilty little soul, could read him as easily as a data-sheet and pick up the information she needed to put him before a firing squad.  
  
Miyuki let him sweat for a minute as she conversed with a Control Brain in the background, "Yes, that will be all, Second. I will be back on Irk within the year, most likely."  
  
No you won't, Spork thought, and for a horrifying second he imagined he'd said it aloud. He paled visibly, but she didn't seem to notice as the screen flickered out. After a few minutes had passed, he laughed in relief.  
  
"You fool!" he crowed, "Go, then! You'll die and I'll love every second of your funeral! I'll be laughing it up around a table with my inferiors, and I'll grab the reins of this planet and bring her closer to victory than you ever had! You're simpering and pathetic, Miyuki, I've always hated the way you misruled this planet, you sick little worthless sack of offal!" It felt good to rant at an empty viewscreen, Spork thought, trying to ascertain if this was all he wanted to say, "And one more thing, it won't be 'Second' for much longer. It'll be Almighty. Tallest. Spork." He savored every word on his segmented tongue, clenching his fists, "That idiot Zim will do my dirty work. I'll see you dead!" 


	10. Aboard The Falconer

There was dead silence on the spacecraft Falconer, except for the unwary voice ranting from the video screen; the screen with the visual off but the audio on.  
  
"...dirty work. I'll see you dead!"  
  
The silence stretched on for a few minutes, and then Miyuki whispered, "Audio off."  
  
The audio cut out, and Miyuki leaned back in her chair, more than a little perturbed. Death threats against a Tallest were punishable by death, and then, some of the most hideous deaths available. She was almost sorry she'd been so shrewd. She liked Spork, or had, until this. She glanced at the technician.  
  
"It's saved to the computer's memory, My Tallest." He said meekly, his face hidden by the uniform, only his eyes betraying any expression at all.  
  
"Delete it." There were gasps all around the control room, and Miyuki inwardly smiled. She loved doing the unexpected. It kept people on their toes around her.  
  
The technician knew better than to object: he deleted the recording without comment.  
  
"Set a course for the base we're supposed to be visiting," Miyuki said, unsettled by Spork's words but not showing it.  
  
"You're going anyway?" The Control Brain asked wonderingly, "After what he said?"  
  
"To not go would arouse suspicion." Miyuki felt at ease with her choice, "To not go would display indecisiveness to my people. I must work to avoid weakness in their eyes."  
  
"Even when doing so results in death." It wasn't exactly a question, more of a sarcastic statement, but Miyuki turned and glared at the Brain.  
  
"I don't think, in the end, it's fully your decision." She turned back, leaning against the contours of the chair and feeling sick to her stomach. No outward signs of distress showed, but she wished suddenly for a quiet, private room with a box of candy and a comforting plush toy.  
  
The Brain was speaking, but she mostly tuned him out. She caught a few snippets, and responded to one in particular after he was done.  
  
"Precaution." She said, thoughtfully, "Beyond bodyguards, you mean. Because this... 'Zim', is dangerous, do you mean?"  
  
"Zim is deadly, My Tallest," The Brain said earnestly.  
  
Miyuki conjured up thoughts of a tall, dark Irken with a black flowing cape and an evil glint in his eyes, with some sort of assassin's daggers clenched in thin fingers.  
  
"Have you got a visual?" She wondered.  
  
"Not on the Falconer." The Brain replied before the technician could speak, "Please, My Tallest, I urge you to do -something- to protect yourself! It is foolish to--"  
  
"--To put my innocent soldiers in the path of the stalking lion when it tries to hurt my people. No, the best way to deal with this is by myself. I shall meet this threat head-on and dispose of it with no loss of life to my people, and I will do so in a natural manner befitting a Tallest." Miyuki threw back her head proudly. She'd grown up in one of the backwater developments on a different planet than Irk, and she never let anyone forget her roots as an outsider.  
  
"A manner befitting a Tallest would not be to risk oneself!" The Brain tried his last tactic, helplessly trying to appeal to her insanity, "I beg of you, if you do this you will be taking Spork's bait...!"  
  
"And that is another thing." Miyuki stood, gazing around the room with a serious, appraising eye. Three technicians, the Control Brain, two worker drones and herself. "None of this is to ever leave this control center. As soon as we disembark from this ship it will be as though nothing happened. I continue to value Spork as a friend, and I will not have his reputation compromised until after I have dealt with his chosen assassin, and after a fair trial."  
  
Everyone stared.  
  
"If I find that this has been leaked, I will personally execute every one of you." With that, she turned to go, adding one last comment.  
  
"Alert me once the ship enters the planet's atmosphere." The door whooshed shut behind her with a very final sound. 


	11. Apology, conspiricy

Almost every race knew of the fearsome Trill. They were second only to the Irkens in their prowess with weapons and cold-hearted tactics, and they too were bent on grabbing as many planets as they could for their own. It was the general consensus that someday the Trill and the Irkens would someday stop their conquest of all other species and turn on each other in a brutal war that would leave one side extinct.  
  
Either side that claimed final victory would not be pleasant for the survivors of the conquered planets, but nobody could really decide which was worse. The Irkens would, of course, enslave everyone and force them to work on their war machine, their ultimate goal being to control everything. The Trill would butcher them and take what body parts they deemed useful-- the Trill had no definitive species, but were a patchwork hybrid of every creature that had ever served them well.  
  
The king of the Trill was a half-Irken, as all of them had been. They believed strongly in knowing their enemy, and decided it would be best to have a ruler who was intimately acquainted with the foe. Open war between the two species had not been attempted, because the Trill were strong enough to wipe out the Irkens and vice versa. The sides would wait until one had developed an advantage, then strike and destroy the enemy at will. Warfare had been kept limited: every now and again a cruiser would be blown up on one side, and the Trill would sing requiems or rhapsodies, and the Irkens would seethe or taunt, but the majority of people on both sides did not want to battle the other.  
  
Their names were curse words in their opposites' language: "Trill fool" was an insult to Irkens and started many a brawl, and "Irken lover" caused honor duels amongst the Trill.  
  
There was no doubt about the hate each held for the other, but up until now, they'd never had much tension; no reason to engage in war with one another with no clear victor to be seen, for they were almost polar opposites.  
  
Which, of course, was the reason for such surprise when the Trill ships swooped in low over the Planet Irk, almost at firing range, and sent a direct transmission to Spork's headquarters. The conversation was password coded, and completely private. Many of the Irkens wondered why their greatest enemy was conversing with their leader, actually allowed to approach the planet at escape-velocity level speed, and transmit without being blown into rubble. After a duration of about seven minutes, the Trill's engines flared and the aliens left, unmarked and unharmed.  
  
Red heard a little about it, and dismissed it as a rumor. Even if there was a grain of truth to it, the "Trill ships" were probably just junked up Irken Juggernaut ships that had been patched so many times they'd be unrecognizable. And having them talk directly to Spork? Ludicrous, unless Spork was declaring open war on the Trill for entering their foe's planet- space.  
  
He had bigger things to worry about, though. Purple hadn't come back to their domicile, nor had he contacted Red in any way. Red figured he was probably biding his time somewhere, recovering his hurt pride, but it was still a cause for worry. He was torn between guilt, wanting to make up for his failing, and anger at Purple for making it so difficult for him. A stupid little argument had become quite a bit more; overblown and out of control. Every time he tried to sort out his feelings, he came up with the same conclusion: find Purple and make up. The idea had annoyed him for almost twenty-four hours.  
  
Before, whenever the two had fought, it was Red giving Purple the silent treatment, and Purple who came crawling back, begging for the ruby Irken's forgiveness. Faced with a turn of the tide, Red didn't know what to do. Was outlasting him in some stupid grudge more important than making up and salvaging a lifelong friendship...?  
  
Decisively, he reached for the pocket communicator and turned it on. He typed in Purple's identification code, and waited. The small screen flickered, then resolved into an image of a small Irken female.  
  
" 'Lo..." She began, then peered at his military attire, saluted, and amended, "Greetings."  
  
"Mm. This is Purple's communicator, you know." Red said, bluntly, "Where is he?"  
  
"Purple?" she looked a bit nervous, "He's out right now. Can I take a message to give to him?"  
  
"You can answer some of my questions. Out where, for how long, and why did he leave his communicator behind?" Red snapped, in no mood to be polite.  
  
Her eyes darted to the side for a second, "Um...for about ten minutes. He didn't want to be bothered."  
  
"Alright. You skipped my most important question." Red glared, "Where?"  
  
"He left me specific instructions." She averted the question again.  
  
Red paused, digesting that, pushing the hurt feelings aside for later, and repeated, "Where? If you don't tell me, I will most assuredly report you for withholding information from a taller Irken."  
  
She blanched, "Very well, sir. He's right here."  
  
Before Red could respond, he found himself gazing at the scowling face of Purple. Far from expecting it, he tried a weak smile, and said, "Purple..."  
  
The scowl remained, "What do you want?"  
  
"Listen, I know you're probably mad at me right now--"  
  
"You'd be right. I am. Goodbye, Red."  
  
Red was taken aback, "I'm not done."  
  
"Neither was I when you walked out on me." Snapped Purple, "But since I'm more considerate than you, I'll go ahead and hear you out."  
  
Red swallowed, "I didn't mean to jump on you like that...or storm out in a huff." There was a pause, and Purple was silent.  
  
"I'm sorry...okay..?" Red tried.  
  
"No, it isn't okay. In fact, it might never be okay. You asked me to tell you what was wrong, and jumped on me like a Trill when I told you the truth. I bared my heart for you and you ripped it out, along with my Squeedly-Spooch and my spinal cord. It hurt, Red. Maybe you don't realize that, but it hurt a lot." The voice was cold and emotionless, and Purple's face matched it.  
  
"Alright," Red backed up mentally and verbally, "I can see you're still angry. I think I'll just hang up now, before I say anything else that might worsen my position here." He poised his finger over the off button, waiting expectantly for Purple's forgiveness.  
  
Purple did him one better and cut the connection. 


	12. Tallest Tragedy

Almighty Tallest Miyuki shifted uncomfortably. For some reason, she was nervous. She glanced up from her seat distractedly, only half-paying attention to the head scientist. She felt distanced from everything that was happening around her, and wished for a moment that she'd brought along an honor guard. Then she dismissed the thought outright. How preposterous.  
  
Miyuki might exhibit feminine characteristics, but she was certainly not weaker than any other Irken, and she could defend herself quite nicely from just about anything, thank you very much. She folded her arms pettishly and returned her gaze to the speaker. But he was no longer speaking; he was gazing in horror at the doorway.  
  
Miyuki felt her heartbeat pick up, and turned towards the door. There, framed in the wide opening, was a shadowy Irken figure with piercing eyes and a feral grin.  
  
"Almighty Tallest Miyuki, I presume." He quipped in a voice cold as steel. He raised the portable blaster by his side and fired, and the world slowly faded to black.  
  
Miyuki sat bolt upright in the recharge chamber, antennae twitching, stifling a scream. She was alarmed to find that she was breathing hard, and took a few moments to calm down. Just a dream... just a foolish little dream was all that it was.  
  
She'd had many of a similar type since her initial uncovering of Spork's treachery, though she'd never been able to see the Irken's whole face, nor do anything about the assassination attempt until it was too late. Even as she got her breathing under control and swung over the edge of the recharge chamber to hover beside it, the ship shuddered a bit.  
  
Are we under attack? She thought wildly, then her eyes went to the digital readout next to the door, which informed her of the date and time, and she relaxed. They were docking on Planet Vort, that was all.  
  
"Get ahold of yourself, Miyuki," She scolded herself roughly, "Keep this up and you'll be a basket of nerves and then what will they think? Yes. Calm down."  
  
She reached for the desk, chewing on her tongue in thought. She had the option... she could bring a weapon if she wanted to. She could almost hear Control Brain Five berating her if she didn't, and her hand brushed across the surface of the desk. A compartment flicked open, revealing a shiny black blaster beneath the simulated wood, and she frowned.  
  
Do it. Just for your own defense. Urged her common sense. But something stronger than common sense prodded her back.  
  
She'd had an instinctive fear of guns ever since she was a small Smeetling and she'd picked one up, one some careless Irken soldier had left lying around, and... oh, it had been an accident, all right, and they'd accepted it readily enough, nothing more was said. She had the genome pattern to be tall, so she had the right to make a mistake or two.  
  
She thought of that other little Smeet and shuddered, clicking her claws across the desk. Even an assassination attempt wasn't a strong enough reason to bring a blaster with her, was it? She inhaled sharply.  
  
Miyuki had always been a woman of reasoning and logic, if also stubbornness and strictness.  
  
She took the gun.  
  
Approaching the exit of the ship and squirreling the gun away in her Pak, she steeled her features and prepared herself to show the coldly superior, aristocratic Tallest that everyone wanted to see.  
  
Miyuki sighed, running one hand over her antennae in a reflexive gesture. This time tomorrow, she might well be dead.  
  
As she stepped out, she was more than a little startled to see Irkens of every size and shade of green waiting. They all burst into rounds of applause and good natured cheering as she appeared from the hold of the ship. She managed a tight smile.  
  
Then her eyes landed on three black suited Irken soldiers, all carrying laser pistols and looking around suspiciously, and ground her teeth together.  
  
It didn't take long for her to find the Control Brain, and she hovered up to it menacingly, wishing she could stomp, but it just wouldn't be proper for a Tallest to touch the floor. Still, that hampered temper tantrums quite effectively.  
  
"Five." She hissed, the word brittle. The Control Brain was more than prepared to deal with her, it seemed.  
  
"I overrode your order to have no bodyguards in regards to your public safety in a situation you can't deal with," It said mildly, "I apologize, but I can do that."  
  
"No, you can't." She seethed, "I am Almighty Tallest Miyuki, and you are Control Brain Five. Which of us controls whom?"  
  
"In matters regarding ceremonial or hazardous situations..." Five trailed away, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I am allowed to bypass orders that do not seem sane."  
  
"I am perfectly mentally healthy!" Miyuki fought to keep her voice low, "My Pak is at ninety-five percent functioning capability, and..." She trailed off.  
  
Another lesson learned hard in youth was knowing which battles to fight, and this was one she couldn't win. She let out a disgusted sigh, "Very well, Five. We'll discuss this at a later date."  
  
Miyuki turned away, working very hard to regain her regal air again, and headed down the lines of Irkens, cold and focused ahead. Now more than ever, she wanted to get this over and done with. She also decided that when it was through, she would return to Irk. She hadn't been there in what felt like forever, and she knew it was probably suffering from her absence. At any rate, she was suffering from the absence of Irk, so if that was any indication...  
  
She spotted the head scientist of the facility, in front of a line of the other, lesser scientists, and a few modified SIR units. Nothing like her dream, thank the First Tallest....or was she being silly? She frowned and stopped in front of him, gazing down. They'd apparently prepared, as everything they had was ready to be presented to her, and she silently approved.  
  
"Tallest Miyuki," The scientist spoke formally and with a hint of a Vortian accent, "Welcome to Vort Research Station Nine. You honor us with your visit." His antennae twitched in what could have been nervousness or perhaps a half salute.  
  
She fought the urge to sigh again and instead found a somewhat friendly smile to put on, "Tell me what my finest minds are dreaming up for the empire."  
  
He paused, as if mentally reviewing notes, then said, "Well, there's our infinite energy producing thingy." Another little pause, "And Lard Nar here has begun work on preliminary designs for your new Bludgeon Class fleet leader."  
  
She regarded Lard Nar, a Vortian, with proper ceremony, and thought to herself, almost ready to frame a response. The Massive, she believed the fleet leader was. The design was so good that it was already being built back on Irk, she knew, though she had no way of knowing about Red and Purple's improper expedition aboard it.  
  
Lard Nar saluted, looking quite pleased with himself, and gestured to the plans with almost a father's pride in his son. He seemed to be adapting to Irk's takeover of his planet quite well.  
  
A new voice piped up from the side, rudely, "Dookie! That thing'll never fly!"  
  
Miyuki's eyes flicked to the source of the voice, and beheld a small, energetic looking Irken with bright red eyes and a wrinkled lab coat. She fought the impulse to grimace, and instead said, with the proper amount of surprise in her voice, "Operator, who is this little creature?"  
  
The head scientist looked like he wanted to slink back into the group of other scientists, but he respectfully stood his ground, "Eh... Zim, my Tallest. A transfer from Irk. He destroys everything he touches, so they figured he'd excel at military research."  
  
Miyuki froze, the familiar feeling of fear mingling with some insane impulse to burst out laughing, her face keeping a tightly controlled stoic look. This, this runty little being here was the super-assassin 'Zim' who had tormented her dreams and wracked her waking hours with such indecision and fretfulness? Why, this thing was nowhere near being as tall as her waist, even! And he was supposed to be threatening?  
  
"Enough praise." Interjected Zim, excitement creeping into his voice, "Look! I made an infinite energy absorbing thingy!! He's chubby!" He hoisted a strange looking beast with a green collar and a disk attached to it, which was struggling to get out of his arms, and showed it to Miyuki just as Spork had said he should. Surely this time he wouldn't get in trouble! He'd worked on the algorithms for days on end without rest, and had created the little thing from practically nothing at all. It was an achievement to be proud of.  
  
But the head scientist was gazing at the beast with horror as it fought to get out of Zim's rest-deprived grip, "No!! Keep it away from the infinite energy producing thingy!"  
  
Almost before the warning was out of his mouth, the energy absorbing thingy ripped out of Zim's arms and lunged for the energy producing device, wrapping his mouth around it. He landed on all fours... and began to grow. The collar buckled and snapped under the sudden increase of pressure.  
  
Miyuki blinked, backing away a little, her mind cycling back to the word 'infinite', and she suddenly felt very small and very afraid. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, wondering what Five had planned that could protect her from this, and the creature's eyes locked on her. She was, after all, the biggest morsel in the room.  
  
Xerox, from somewhere very, very far away, near the back of the room, watched in frozen horror. He shook it off and began to push through the frightened crowd, but even if the room had been empty, the distance was far too great to reach the stricken Tallest. He yelled through the screaming chaos that the room had become, "Run, my Tallest!!" but his voice was drowned out.  
  
Miyuki didn't even have time for a scream as it reached down and snatched her up, and her last thought was that she might as well not have bothered taking the gun and spared herself some angst, because what good was...  
  
The monster ate her.  
  
Xerox stopped his progress again, found that his legs would no longer support him, and extended himself on his spider-legs instead. "Everyone!" He bellowed hoarsely, "To the exits in an orderly manner!"  
  
The crowd didn't listen, but the monster turned its head toward Xerox, and he reached for his weapon as it came bounding across to him, shaking the floor as it did. His eyes narrowed perceptively. It was too late to save the Almighty Tallest, and he silently grieved for that, but perhaps he could stop the thing before it wreaked havoc on all of Vort.  
  
Too late he realized the few Irkens who had listened to him and were heading to the exit instead of scattering in random directions were also headed in the same direction as the monster. It was loping to him, and to the exit.  
  
In a bid to distract it, he scuttled to the side, and one of his legs caught and held on a loose screw in the floor. He went down, tripping like a clumsy spider, and struggled back up vainly, to watch the monster lope outside and begin to destroy everything in sight.  
  
Zim pumped both fists into the air. "Go thingy!" He cheered. Spork had been right. He had gotten to see Miyuki, and now his little creation was so much bigger and cuter than before. That Miyuki had been eaten by it was somewhat upsetting, but surely Spork had made that allowance and had planned for it. Zim was confident that Spork could do no wrong.  
  
Xerox trembled in rage from his position, fists clenching. His leader... viciously murdered... and with him unable to do anything about it. ...Or perhaps there was something he could do, after all.  
  
Dr. Ruel was sitting on the floor, visibly shaken, and Lard Nar was doing his best to comfort her until Xerox appeared, looking commanding, as the military base commander ought to. Ruel's SIR unit was standing impassively off to the side, and Zim was near them, still watching his beloved rampaging fiend off in the distance.  
  
"Zim," Xerox said, fiercely and directly, "Who sent you here?"  
  
"My Second Spork." Zim parroted, distractedly, "On my secret mission." He didn't think there was any harm in saying anything now; after all, the mission had been a success. One of his very best successes.  
  
"Very well, Zim." Xerox had an inkling of what the mission had been, and also, of what Spork had hoped to accomplish. He hid his fury with some difficulty, then nodded, "You're returning to Irk."  
  
"Really?" Zim returned his gaze to Xerox, innocently, "Why?"  
  
Xerox's eyes landed on the floor, found the collar and the bright disk sitting innocuously next to it, and reached down, snatching it up. He shoved it into Zim's hands. "This is why," he snapped sarcastically, "Go back to Irk and enjoy yourself during Spork's acceptance speech."  
  
Zim's gaze was uncomprehending of the venom in the other's voice, "Okay." He said agreeably.  
  
Xerox turned to Lard Nar and Ruel, "Are either of you hurt?"  
  
"No," Lard Nar answered for both of them, looking up at Xerox uneasily, as though he was the one who would end up being in trouble, "T...That thing..."  
  
"It will be dealt with." Xerox said, cryptically, "Trust me, Vortian, it will be dealt with, in a manner that is befitting the mastermind of its creation." 


	13. Reveling in Victory

"Almighty Tallest Miyuki is dead."  
  
Spork's voice filled with shock and incredulity, neither of which he really felt, as he gazed at the screen in what he hoped was incomprehension; "What?"  
  
"I apologize, My Second. You'll probably be briefed..." The screen broke up and the Irken on the other end looked suddenly as though he was about to cry, "I... I'm sorry."  
  
As the connection cut, Spork cackled a little maniacally. Finally! The week had almost been too long to suffer through. Now, at last, control over the entire universe was his. And that little stunted Irken was the cause of it all!  
  
Who would have thought Zim would have had such a use beyond destroying everything he came into close contact with? Pity Zim hadn't been killed as well, but then, Spork wasn't about to look the proverbial gift-SIR in the motherboard. It had been lucky enough that Miyuki had perished.  
  
His antennae flicked back, and he glanced at the window once more. The reflection smiled when he did, showing no sign of any inner turmoil, and he leaned back in the chair, content. Tears and grief could be summoned later; right now he just wanted to enjoy his ill-gotten gains.  
  
Spork rustled in a drawer, found a packet of chips, and relaxed as well as he was able. Starting at the formal ceremony, he'd not have a care in the world. 


	14. The Revenge of Xerox

It had taken over fifty Spittle Pods to contain the energy absorbing thingy, along with a hastily improvised mechanism called the Ultra-Spooky- Energy-Absorption-Device, built by Ruel, Lard Nar, and a few of the other, less traumatized scientists on one of Vort's moons, while the beast ravaged the planet.  
  
But now it was tiny and pet sized again, kept inside the Ultra-Spooky Device, which constantly channeled power from him, preventing him from growing any bigger. Xerox looked inside the pet carrier, hardly able to believe the vicious little creature inside was responsible for murdering Tallest Miyuki. He scowled in disgust, and then glanced up as he heard a familiar, shrill, indignant voice.  
  
Lard Nar was arguing with one of the soldiers, sounding rather upset. "And you mean to tell me, what?! That thing destroyed fully half of my planet and almost all my friends and family were killed!! What do you mean, that Irken is going to get off free for this?!"  
  
Xerox winced. He could sympathize with Lard Nar's plight, but to escape the governmental traps, the only way he could seek his own revenge was through the little Invader.  
  
He pulled the Vortian aside, away from any other prying antennae, and paused, trying to think of how to put it into words. Lard Nar stared at him, blinking through his goggles.  
  
"I can't begin to fathom your loss," Xerox murmured softly, "But the Irkens have just lost a Tallest...you are not the only one to walk away from this upset...We're letting Zim go without punishment because we believe he did no wrong."  
  
"What?! Are you MAD??" Lard Nar demanded, bristling, "You were there, Commander, you saw—didn't you see it--" He was near hysteria, "You saw that thing he had, didn't you?! That thing that--! That even now--!" He pointed frantically, wordlessly, at the container, seized by a raw pain and a desire to see revenge enacted.  
  
Xerox frowned deeply, glancing around to make certain they were as alone as possible, "Irken politics are more complicated than you may think, Vortian. This wasn't Zim's idea, it was too cruelly brilliant, and there was no motive. What could Zim gain from this? Someone ordered him to do it, and I know who it was."  
  
"But...but why?" Lard Nar's anger turned to bewilderment and shock, "Who would...deliberately...authorize murder?"  
  
"Someone who had the entire Irken Empire to gain," Xerox's eyes narrowed, "Almost-Almighty Tallest Spork....Only now there's no Almost."  
  
Lard Nar's eyes widened behind the goggles, hardly comprehending the skullduggery of cutthroat politics, and he fidgeted with his hands, "I sense this Spork won't be a good leader if he's willing to do this..."  
  
"That isn't why I want him dead," Xerox's eyes burned now with an inner fire, "It wouldn't matter to me if he was as inept as Zim or as competent as Miyuki was... Miyuki was one of the greatest..." His voice cracked and he paused a moment before continuing, "...This was very personal to me."  
  
"You loved her?" Lard Nar asked, uncertainly.  
  
Xerox paused, antennae flattening, "I can't say that, because I never knew her. But she was a beautiful creature, intelligent, caring... when she died a part of me went, too. When I was a bit younger I idolized her." He suddenly looked embarrassed, "But... that is irrelevant."  
  
Lard Nar seemed to understand after a few seconds of silence, exclaiming, "I see! You'll send Zim back to k—"  
  
Xerox clapped a hand over the Vortian's mouth and hissed, "For the First Tallest's sake, keep quiet! The walls have antennae, and this isn't exactly dinner-table conversation, Vortian..."  
  
"...It's Lard Nar." Lard Nar corrected sourly when Xerox released him, and then lowered his voice, "Zim's going to...deal with Spork?"  
  
"Just giving Spork a taste of his own foul exhaust," Xerox scowled, then continued, "We'll see how it goes, won't we, V...Lard Nar?"  
  
"All right, Commander." Something dark was brewing behind the normally sunny Vortian's eyes, "But I want to watch it." He bared his teeth.  
  
"Watch it?" Xerox asked, alarmed.  
  
"It's bound to be caught on Vid-Disk, and I want you to get me a copy, Commander." Lard Nar insisted, "Do it for me or I swear this will leak."  
  
Xerox grabbed up the front of the Vortian's lab coat, brought his face close to the other's, and whispered, "Don't you dare threaten me, Lard Nar. I'm going to give you what closure you need on this, but if you threaten me, so help me... they'll be collecting your scattered pieces as far as Keetri Eight."  
  
Lard Nar stared defiantly into Xerox's eyes and replied, almost instinctively, "I hate you Irkens."  
  
Xerox breathed in slightly, the only reaction he outwardly showed to such a statement, and dropped Lard Nar to the floor. "Get back to work, Vortian," he muttered disdainfully, "And you'll have your precious copy." 


End file.
